


Incalescence

by llyrical



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), College, Demon Deals, Fire used both literally and metaphorically, Human Bill Cipher, M/M, Magic, Memory Loss, More tags to be added, Nightmares, Possessiveness, Rating will probably change, Sexual Content, Violence, accidental background mabifica, basically just dipper being a huge nerd, bill generally being super handsy, but also paranormal investigator!dipper, dirty talk like DAMN, more angst than was intended, original demon characters i guess, writer!dipper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-03-25 22:13:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 105,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3826903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/llyrical/pseuds/llyrical
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dipper just wanted to have a normal college life- well, as normal as one could have it while continuing to research the mysteries of Gravity Falls. He did NOT intend to have to deal with losing all of his work just as he needed it the most. </p>
<p>He also did not intend to have a demon be his only chance of getting it back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

The mindscape was as bleak as always: a monochromatic universe highlighted in color only by Dipper’s own physical form. He had grown oddly accustomed to seeing the Gravity Falls woods blanketed in static and void of pigment. 

The trees towered over him in shades of black and gray, looming in a way that would have unsettled someone unfamiliar with the otherworld that Dipper had come to know in his sleep. But this was _his_ mind, and he knew every inch of it like the back of his hand. He was in control.

Or at least that’s what he told himself.

After the nightmares had started at the beginning of the summer, Dipper had been spending more and more time in his mindscape rather than inactively dreaming. Over the years, he had become skilled at being able to easily enter his mindscape in his sleep. It was nearly the same as dreaming. His body certainly slept while he did it, but he always woke up to find himself feeling much less rested than if he had just taken the easy road and put his brain into autopilot. Still, being forced to take caffeine pills and drink coffee was a small price to pay in exchange for not having to helplessly endure a repetitive dream in which he always ended up dead. 

The nightmares didn’t stop. They followed him into the mindscape. But at least here he knew that it wasn’t real. 

But tonight was not the norm. He had forced himself to wake up several times, entering and reentering the mindscape over and over again, trying to correct a flaw that had never occurred before. His mindscape seemed broken- it looked to be looping the same patch of forest over and over again, never reaching the end of the map. Like a glitch in a video game, Dipper could only get to a certain area before the mindscape shifted and he was back to where he started. The manor that Dipper knew was hidden away in a clearing exactly one hundred paces north of his usual phasing spot- the manor that housed all of Dipper's memories- was nowhere to be found. 

While the scenario unnerved him, he tried to rationalize it to the best of his abilities. This was _his_ mind. Ultimately, he was the one with power here; anything was possible if he could imagine it, and he attempted to do just that. He pictured himself phasing right in front of the manor, and when he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and felt something flicker, he believed that he had done it. But when he opened his eyes again, he was still on the same path, surrounded by the same trees. 

After what felt like hours of wandering (but probably wasn’t, as time flowed much differently within the mindscape), Dipper’s blood ran cold. He physically stopped dead in his tracks, spinning around on pure instinct, ready to face an unseen adversary that he knew was there. As expected, the path was empty, but the air felt heavier and Dipper knew what was coming. 

_I should just wake myself now,_ he thought. 

_And get no sleep at all?_ the more logical, sleep-deprived part of him argued. After all, he had no idea if it was morning or if he’d only been sleeping for a few minutes. 

Dipper decided to wait it out, turning on his heel and quickening his pace. If he could just find the manor, then maybe he’d be safe from whatever his nightmares had in store for him tonight. He knew it wasn’t probable, as whatever invisible force was haunting him seemed to have no problem with burning down the manor while he was inside or creating a vision of his sister throwing herself off the balcony, but it still gave him more of a false sense of security. With walls around him, at least he wouldn’t be out in the open, exposed on all sides. 

And then, out of nowhere, came the smoke, wrapping around him like vines on a trellis. It startled him enough that he stumbled to a stop, whirling around. Sure enough, the entire forest behind him was now cloaked in a heavy black smog that hadn't been there moments before. There was no fire in sight. "Shit," Dipper mumbled to himself, and the smoke, seeming almost sentient, took the opportunity to surge into his mouth. He coughed, eyes watering, and pulled the collar of his flannel shirt up over his mouth. The smoke overcame him in seconds, and he took off running. 

It only took a second for his foot to become snagged on something and he fell ungracefully, gritting his teeth as his palms scraped on the ground. An instant panic set in as he realized there was no way he could have tripped over a fallen branch or overgrown root- the path in his mindscape was bare of them. Dipper was too much of a klutz in his real life to take the risk in his mind.

His arms and legs failed him, refusing to comply with his orders to push himself up. Instead, he remained paralyzed, fully capable of feeling his limbs but not able to make them work. Though he knew this was only happening in the mindscape and that he wasn't in any _actual_ danger, the fear that struck him was completely real. He started to wonder if it was possible that he would panic enough that he would actually have a heart attack and die in his sleep at age eighteen. 

_Wake up,_ he urged himself. When he couldn't, the anxiety worsened. 

The smoke covered him, seeming to force itself right into his mouth. It burned both his throat and his eyes, just as painfully as it would have if it was real. His palms still stung with the impact of the ground and when he raised one hand to cover his mouth, he tasted a mix of rust and dirt that really shouldn't have been so vivid within a universe that he was supposed to control. 

_Wake up, wake up, wake up._ The voice echoing in his ears was not his, but at this point Dipper was far too oxygen-deprived to worry anymore. 

He saw a figure emerging out of the ash just as the smoke intensified and cut off the scream before it left his throat. 

Dipper was awake before he hit the ground, but knocking his head against the hardwood floor did serve as further proof of his consciousness. He sat up with a groan, rubbing at the back of his head and imagining the bump that will have formed by morning. Breathing normally now felt strange, as if there was _too much_ air and his lungs just couldn't adjust. 

It was only seconds later that his door opened slowly, and he could see his twin’s figure even in the darkness of the room. “Dipper?” she asked quietly. When he didn’t respond quickly enough, she shut the door behind her and crossed the room, going immediately for the lamp on the desk. 

When the room flooded with light, Dipper raised an arm to shield his eyes as Mabel exclaimed, “Dipper, what are you doing on the floor?” 

Dipper rolled his eyes as she extended a hand to help him up, laying the sarcasm on thick and deadpanning, “Oh, I just thought it would be _comfortable.”_ In reality, he was shaking so hard that he didn't think he would have stood back up on his own until morning.

Mabel frowned at him, sitting on the edge of his bed. He followed suit, his eyes landing on the clock. Just past four in the morning. He didn’t see himself getting back to sleep any time soon. “You okay, bro-bro?” Mabel murmured quietly, looking at him with wide eyes that were far too awake for this hour of the day. 

“Yeah,” Dipper lied. His voice sounded hoarse, as if the effects of the smoke had carried over into the waking world. “Just another nightmare.” 

“Dipper, I don’t think that counts as _okay_ ,” Mabel stressed, sounding upset. He could tell that she was fighting to not hug him, as the last time she had attempted that after one of his nightmares, he had lashed out and basically thrown himself to the other side of the room in an attempt to escape the contact. Mabel had understood, of course, but it didn’t make Dipper feel any less bad about it. 

This situation was made so much worse by the knowledge that Mabel would be gone in just a few hours. Dipper’s chest burned when he remembered that his alarm was set to go off in a few hours so he could get ready to go with Grunkle Stan to take Mabel to the airport for her afternoon flight. Because she was leaving. They were going to be separated for the first time since _birth_. And, also for the first time, Dipper was going to be alone in Gravity Falls.

Mabel had been accepted to the Fashion Institute of Design and Merchandising in Los Angeles. She was, as Dipper had always suspected, planning to get her Bachelor’s degree in Fine Arts in Fashion Design. It was her dream school, and their parents were delighted at the idea that their daughter would only be a few hours away and could easily drive or take a bus home if need be. 

They were slightly less thrilled at Dipper’s decision to return to Gravity Falls indefinitely after six summers (seven, counting this one) there to attend a community college in the next town over. 

After years of debating with himself about what he really wanted to be, Mabel had finally pushed Dipper to pursue what he had known was his passion all along: writing. He had won several essay-related competitions at the state level during his junior and senior years of high school, and for once, Dipper had felt confident in his abilities. He moved on to occasionally write pieces for a local gazette, but still remained anonymous. If the kids at his high school had known that he was the one writing tales of demons and zombies under a coded pseudonym that actually translated directly to his name, he would have gotten bullied even more than he already had been for being the nose-always-stuck-in-a-book kid. 

His parents had been more than worried by his sudden interest in all things supernatural after his first summer in Gravity Falls. After the twins’ second trip there, they had become hesitant to send them there at all, even going as far as to have an angry, hushed conversation with Grunkle Stan over the phone when they thought Dipper and Mabel were asleep. As a result, Dipper toned down his interests while around his parents; they would never believe him, anyway. He couldn’t allow his impulsiveness to ruin this for himself or for Mabel. 

His parents weren’t the only ones worried for him, but Mabel didn’t even attempt to hide her concern. It was different, though, communicated to him by a tight hug before he left for the woods and an even tighter hug when he returned. He never missed the small sigh of relief and the look in her eyes that made it clear that she thought that one of these days, Dipper _wouldn’t_ return. Her worry overpowered even the awkwardness that came from sibling affection. 

Mabel may have wanted to come with him, but after an incident when they were fifteen and Mabel ended up close to death as a result of Dipper's inattention, he decided it was for the best that he go adventuring alone. The incident resulted in a horrible scar down the side of Mabel's face and many, many heated arguments, but it still ended with Dipper absolutely forbidding his twin ever come with him again. For her own good. Mabel still helped him with research (by going over his notes in what she called his “nerd books”), but field work he did alone. 

By the time Dipper turned sixteen, he had stopped trying to figure out _what_ the inhabitants of Gravity Falls were and spent more time delving into the _why_. He had read the Author’s Journal like a bible and devoted more time than was necessarily healthy to trying to figure out all of its secrets. He had put it under every color black light that existed, scrubbed mixtures of lemon juice and natural herbs onto blank pages, and even tried several spells on it in desperate hopes that it would yield more information. It never did, though, and Dipper had long since filled the remaining pages with his own research in case something were to happen to him and the Journal was to fall into somebody else’s hands. 

He had had more than his fair share of his own near-death experiences, most of which he opted _not_ to share with his twin. But it was all important. It was all for research. 

Though he was writing through a fictitious guise, Dipper put nothing but the cold, hard truth into his writing. His attic room at the Mystery Shack housed two full bookshelves stocked with every even semi-reliable piece of information he’d even been able to find on demonology, incantations, and the paranormal in general. Every book had been leafed through, dog-eared, and filled with Dipper’s own notes scribbled into what little margin space had been left by its previous owners. 

He had started getting into cryptography after his first summer in Gravity Falls. It was necessary to decipher certain messages written in the Journal and carved into trees deep in the woods. He knew Caesarian and Atbash like a second and third language now. He could write it as fast as he could write English, and he could decode it in just a few seconds more. Vigenère took him a bit longer, but he now had a _tabula recta_ printed out and taped to the top of his desk, along with a laminated one glued into the back of the Journal. 

He had been forced to learn Latin after he messed up an incantation and, not for the first time, ended up summoning creatures far more dangerous than the ones he had wanted to. It was Mabel who eventually directed him to an online tutor, saying that she, “didn’t want him getting killed because he was too lazy to study.” While he hated to admit it, Mabel had been right, and learning Latin fully definitely helped with his research. 

But he had another intention past just researching for writing: protecting the Shack and his family. 

Over the last few summers, the Mystery Shack had been subject to more and more attacks by varying supernatural creatures. Mabel saw all of the incidents as being pure coincidence, and Stan refused to acknowledge them altogether. But Dipper knew they were there, and he knew enough about this town to recognize that nothing was coincidence. 

He just didn’t know _why_. 

"Dip?" Mabel asked quietly, shaking his knee and bringing him back into reality. He offered her a weak, forced smile, and she sighed but returned it nonetheless. He leaned against her, and she took it as an affirmative to snake her arm around him and give him a quick squeeze. 

It admittedly served to ground him a bit, and he smiled for real. "Thanks," he said softly as she pulled her arm away. He knew that she knew that he was thanking her for much more than just the hug. 

"What are you gonna do without me?" she teased. Her brown eyes shone in the little light provided by the lamp. They would have been a perfect mirror of Dipper’s were they not so bright and hopeful. 

"I don't know," Dipper replied, serious, before they sighed in unison. The tense atmosphere of the room was replaced by a sad, nostalgic one. 

He didn't blame Mabel for leaving, just like she didn't blame him for staying in Gravity Falls. He had managed to mostly put the thought of her coming absence out of his mind for the majority of the summer. But the thought that she was leaving loomed over him every time he remembered Mabel packing her bags for her usual summer trip while Dipper had packed up everything he owned. 

Mabel crossed her legs and turned to face him and, after a prompting glare from his sister, Dipper did the same. “Do you want to talk about the dream?” she murmured, her eyes burning into his. 

The boy shook his head. “Just more of the same.” Not that that answer really cleared anything up for Mabel. Dipper hadn’t elected to give her many details of any of the nightmares since they started occurring at the beginning of the summer. Besides, the dreams never ended the same way; the only consistency was that Dipper always ended up dying, normally in gruesome ways. He really didn’t want her to know that, and he especially didn’t want her to know that a Dream Mabel was also always in constant danger in the nightmares. After the first time Dipper was subject to watching his sister have her heart ripped out by a gargoyle, he had thrown himself into his dream research twice as hard. 

He could tell that Mabel was itching to interrogate him further, but she respected her twin’s privacy enough not to push him. One of the hardest things that Dipper had ever done had been deciding to keep the knowledge of his dangerous activities from his sister. He knew it hurt her to know that her brother was keeping secrets from her when they had always told each other everything, and it hurt him, too. But there was something going on that was bigger than just him. Bigger than just Gravity Falls. And he couldn’t involve Mabel in that (though she’d probably hit him if she found out that he was lying for her protection). 

She sighed once more. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice cracking a bit. He could feel her pain as clearly as his own, but her desire to make him feel better sparked a warm, familial feeling in his chest. “I wish I could h-” Mabel’s eyes widened all of a sudden, and she jumped off the bed so quickly that Dipper couldn’t help but flinch at the sound of her feet hitting the floor. “Be right back!” she called, already halfway across the room. She also flipped on the bedroom light on her way out, and Dipper groaned and pulled a pillow over his eyes. After a moment, he leaned over towards the desk to turn off the lamp and pulled his glasses onto his face, blinking as the world became clearer. 

When she returned a minute later, she was carrying a small white gift box, to which Dipper raised an eyebrow. Mabel frowned and practically shouted, “Close your eyes!” as she unceremoniously slammed the door behind her. Dipper inwardly cringed, not imagining that Grunkle Stan would take well to being woken up at this ungodly hour, but complied and shut his eyes nonetheless. 

Dipper smiled when he felt the bed dip with Mabel’s weight and the gift box land in his lap. He knew that Mabel expected him to open his eyes then, so of course he kept them shut instead, grinning when his sister eventually made a noise of frustration and slapped his arm. “Open it!” she whined. 

Dipper opened his eyes and pulled the lid off of the box, slightly nervous about its contents. He really wasn’t prepared to get up and clean excessive amounts of glitter off his bed at four in the morning. He was pleasantly surprised when the top of the box showed no glitter, and rather just a plain piece of red tissue paper. He gently pushed the paper to the side, pulling out the box’s contents. 

_It’s a dreamcatcher,_ was Dipper’s first thought, and his second thought was, _Wow._

It was obviously homemade- it had Mabel written all over it, and not in the gaudy, over-the-top way that sometimes influenced her handmade clothing. And while Dipper didn’t know the slightest thing about crafts, it was clear that she had put hours of time and effort into it. He ran his fingers lightly over the wood, shocked at the convoluted designs carved into it that had to have been made with a precision knife. The web-like design in the middle was woven intricately, and Dipper continued to be amazed at the thought of how much work his sister must have put into it. 

“Do you like it? I hope you like it. I started making it after our first week here this summer, after your nightmares wouldn’t stop. I almost didn’t get it done in time. I wasn’t going to give it to you until morning, but technically it’s _already_ morning, so,” Mabel babbled on, wringing her hands nervously as if there was some chance that Dipper _wouldn’t_ love it. 

“Mabel,” he cut her off, and she looked up at him with hopeful eyes. “Of course I like it. God, I _love_ it. I can’t believe you...” He stared at the thing once more, turning it over in his hands. It was beautiful. “And I’m sure this isn’t half-assed, either,” he joked. “But… do these things actually work?” 

“Of course they work!” Mabel cried, her eyes wide and shining with wonder, a look that Dipper had grown used to over the years. “Bad dreams are supposed to pass through hole in the center and be cleansed.” 

Dipper smiled, and while he liked the idea, he was thinking more about how ineffective it would probably be in the mindscape. Mabel must have read the hesitancy on his face, for she quickly added, “And it won’t work if you don’t believe in its properties.” 

Dipper snorted at that, and Mabel crossed her arms across her chest with a serious look. Dipper straightened his face. “Alright, alright. I believe.” Mabel smiled, looking pleased with herself. Dipper examined the dreamcatcher once more, taking notice of the feathers hanging from the bottom. They were long, an angry, bright red at the tips fading down into a softer orange near the bottom. When Dipper ran his fingers over them, it was obvious that they were real. He raised an eyebrow at his twin. 

Mabel laughed sheepishly, and Dipper groaned. “What?” he asked, already dreading her answer.

Mabel smiled nervously, beginning to babble again. “Well, traditionally, you’re supposed to use eagle or hawk feathers, and I was going to, but then I thought, ‘No, that’s not Dipper!’ So I decided to go with phoenix feathers instead.” 

“ _Phoenix_?” 

“Yep! Aren’t they pretty?” 

Dipper’s eyes widened and he forced himself to steady his breath before gritting through his teeth, “Mabel, where did you get phoenix feathers?” 

“Oh, well, I had borrowed your Journal, and-” 

“You _what_?!” 

“And I saw the page you had written on phoenixes, and I knew that was the bird I had to find!” she cried, looking dead serious. Dipper felt as though his heart had stopped the moment she first mentioned the creature, paralyzed at the thought at his sister venturing into the cliffs out by the waterfall and approaching what had to be one of the most dangerous birds Dipper had ever encountered. He couldn’t even bear to ask any more about it. Thinking about his twin in dangerous situations always made him feel as though he was about to have an aneurism. 

In the light-flooded room, the scar on Mabel’s face was clearer than ever, starting at the top left of her forehead and going a few inches down to her cheek. A centimeter over and it would have taken out her eye. In the three years since the incident, she had never once tried to cover it. 

He grabbed a pillow and shoved his face into it, groaning. “Mabel, you’re going to get yourself killed at college,” he mumbled into it. 

She ripped the pillow away from him, tossing it across the room where it hit the wall with a soft _thud_ before falling to the floor. “You’re one to talk,” she pointed out. They both knew she was right, so Dipper didn’t bother to argue. 

They chatted absently for a while, and when Mabel yawned, Dipper encouraged her to go back to bed. But his twin just glared at him, punched his arm, and muttered, “I can sleep on the plane, Dipper. But I only have a few hours left with my twin brother.”

Which was how they ended up staying up the rest of the night, laying on Dipper’s bed and bringing up old memories of Gravity Falls. When Mabel brought up the time that Robbie tried to brainwash Wendy, Dipper realized how hard it was for him to believe that six years had passed. Now, Wendy was off at college in Seattle and Robbie was… well, he was still Robbie, and he still lived with his parents. 

In fact, not much had actually remained the same since their first summer out here. Soos had ended up marrying his girlfriend Melody and now lived in Portland, from where he occasionally contacted the Pines family. Pacifica Northwest was still the talk of the town, even though she had left a month before to begin her study abroad program in Europe. Even Mabel’s best friends had moved away to go to college. 

Gravity Falls had changed, but overall, it was still what it had been when the twins first arrived: a mystery begging to be solved. 

\-------

“I don’t wanna go,” Mabel wailed into his chest, clinging onto his hoodie. Dipper patted one hand awkwardly on his sister’s back and gave Grunkle Stan a panicked look over her shoulder. His great uncle just shrugged, also looking a bit overwhelmed. Neither of them knew what to do if Mabel cried, and it sounded like she was on the verge of it. 

“Yeah you do,” he tried to remind her. She just pulled away and frowned at him, her eyes welling up. 

Dipper slipped his phone out of his pocket and glanced at the time. “You need to get going through security, Mabes,” he murmured, though it pained him. Dipper couldn’t remember a time that he and Mabel had spent more than a few days apart. Now he didn’t even know when he would see her again. 

As if reading his mind (twin telepathy, duh), Mabel seemed to perk up significantly and happily chirp, “Don’t worry, I’ll fly up here and visit you a lot! On the weekends!” 

Dipper laughed. “How are you going to pay for that?” he reminded her. 

Mabel huffed, looking determined. “I’ll figure it out. Oh, and I’ll spend winter break here with you for _sure_!” 

“Mabel, I’m pretty sure that Mom and Dad aren’t going to be cool with-” 

“Mom and Dad can see me all they want, Dipper!” Mabel cried. “Piedmont is only a few hours’ drive away from Los Angeles! But Gravity Falls is, like, _sixteen hours_ away by car, bro-bro.” 

Dipper smiled at his sister’s logic. “Well, I meant more in the way of how Mom and Dad are probably going to want to see _me_ , as well, and that _I’ll_ be the one going to _Piedmont_ for winter break.” 

His twin held her resolve for about two seconds before she deflated slightly, looking sheepish. “Oh. Yeah. Right.” She dissolved into giggles, and after a moment, Dipper laughed along. 

Grunkle Stan stepped awkwardly between them. “Sorry to break up this moment,” and for once, he actually _did_ sound regretful, “But you really need to get going if you want to make your plane, sweetheart.” 

Dipper looked away when Mabel surged forward to hug Stan, letting them have their moment. After a quiet exchange between the two, he gave his sister one last squeeze before shooing her off in the direction of security. 

She only made it a few steps before turning back and calling, “I’ll call you when I land!” She offered one more teary smile to her brother, and Dipper returned it before casting his eyes down, not liking how bad they stung. When he looked up again, Mabel was gone, just a bright purple sweater and long brown hair mixed in with a crowd of people. 

Stan put a comforting hand on his nephew’s shoulder, and when Dipper looked at the man, he was shocked to see that even his uncle’s eyes looked misty. When he caught Dipper staring, he widened his eyes and quickly rubbed at them with the back of his hand. “Allergies,” he muttered, starting towards the doors, and Dipper followed. 

The ride back to Gravity Falls was filled by a comfortable silence. Dipper watched the trees as they drove past, letting his eyes unfocus and enjoying the blur. He was met with sudden images of a monochrome forest full of black smoke, however, and he eventually resolved to just shut his eyes. 

“You okay, kid?” Grunkle Stan asked eventually, and when Dipper opened his eyes again, his uncle shot him what almost looked to be a worried glance.

Dipper swallowed. “Yeah,” he forced himself to say. “Just tired.” 

Stan frowned, his eyes on the road again. “Dipper, you know you’ll see her again soon. There’s no force in the world that would keep Mabel from coming to see you.” 

While that hadn’t actually been what he was worried about, the sentiment did serve to make him feel slightly better, and he smiled. “Yeah, I know, Grunkle Stan. Thanks.”

Stan turned up the radio then, seeming to have reached his emotional toll for the day. Dipper was also getting drained by the heartfelt talk, so he just shut up and sat back in his seat, soothed by the smooth movement of the car. He couldn’t help the sinking feeling in his gut that something was wrong, though. 

They were a mile away from the Shack when they first saw the smoke peaking above the trees.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everybody who has commented, bookmarked, and left kudos! 
> 
> If it wasn't already obvious, I'd like to mention that this is set in a universe in which the events of "Not What He Seems" did not happen. However, these events may come into play later on in the story. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoy.

The firemen had made it to the Shack quicker than Dipper and Grunkle Stan had. That was, perhaps, one of the few benefits of living in a tiny town where everything was close by. By the time Dipper had shoved open his car door and thrown himself out, before Grunkle Stan had even slowed to a stop, the flames were nearly extinguished. 

It was a blur. There was smoke, smoke covering everything, and peaking through it, Dipper could see the flames covering much of the ceiling of the Mystery Shack. Much of what had to be Dipper’s attic room. Half of the letters of the sign were now gone, and the outside ledge that he and Mabel had spent many summers sitting on with Wendy was now burnt to a crisp. He was vaguely aware of Grunkle Stan shouting and trying to push past a fireman, but he couldn’t move himself from the spot where his feet were rooted to the ground, his eyes unwavering.

Somewhere, sounding far away, somebody said, “It seems like it was mostly just the attic that was damaged. The other rooms and the gift shop didn’t take any damage, but will smell like smoke for a while. You’re lucky we got here so soon.” 

The attic. Dipper’s stuff. His research. 

The _Journal._

He took off running for the house, and now it was Grunkle Stan holding _him_ back. He heard a lot of nonsense babbling and panicked shouting that he didn't realize was coming from him until his great uncle had stabilized him, clasped a hand on both shoulders, and yelled, "Calm down, kid!" right in his face. 

“But the _Journal_ is in there,” the teen choked out, his voice echoing in his ears. “A-all of my research....” 

Stan paled, but quickly composed himself. A look of something Dipper couldn’t place flashed across his face before he gritted out, “It’ll be okay, kid. It’ll be okay.” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than he was Dipper. 

Dipper held his trembling hands out in front of himself, watching, powerless, as the attic smouldered. He didn’t think he blinked again for the entire time it took them to extinguish the flames. By the time the fire marshal led him to sit on the back of the fire truck for questioning, he had managed to calm down his breathing a bit. 

He was vaguely aware of them asking him questions and his lips moving in response of their own accord. Were there any electronics in the attic that could have heated up and started the fire? No. His lamp was the only thing plugged in, but it wouldn’t heat up when it wasn’t on. Did he have any enemies who could be potential arson suspects? No. He had enemies, but none of them would have gone this far (well, _some_ might have, but Gideon was still in prison for another two years and Dipper had placed enough protective runes on the house to keep supernatural creatures out). The insurance people would be through within the next few days; could he think of anything off the top of his head destroyed that was rare or valuable?

That question set him off again. Of course he had something rare and valuable: the Journal. Along with all of his other rare books on spells and demonology, he had what was probably thousands and thousands of dollars worth of content that could never be replaced. Suddenly he couldn’t breath, and the interrogator was hurrying over to grab a paramedic. 

The ground looked more reliable, so in the meantime, he dropped to his knees and doubled over as he tried to steady his breathing. A lady in a white coat and rubber gloves was there in a moment, crouching down in front of him and trying to calm him down. When he could finally hear her over the pounding of his heart, she was asking, “Sir, do you require medical attention?” The tone of her voice implied that she had asked the question already. 

Dipper looked at her through stinging eyes. He barely paid her any heed, his eyes once again returning to the smoking wreckage of the Mystery Shack. “No,” he ground out. “I don’t. I wasn’t in the house, obviously. I’m not hurt. I wasn’t here. I wasn’t _here_. I couldn’t _do_ anything.” 

The paramedic stood up and pulled him up with her. He was wringing his hands to the point where they hurt, and her eyes flickered down for just a moment before meeting his again. “Sir,” she stressed, “You’re having a panic attack. You may need to see a doctor.” 

Dipper shook his head hastily. “No. I’m fine. I’m fine.” _The Journal the Journal the Journal the Journal_

“Are you refusing medical treatment?” Dipper paused, then nodded. The woman frowned but didn’t really look surprised. She handed Dipper a clipboard that he hadn’t previously noticed her holding. “You’ll need to sign this waiver, then.” 

Dipper nodded again and sloppily scratched his signature on the line before handing the clipboard back to her, nearly dropping the pen. She verified the signature before handing him the back sheet as a receipt. He folded it up and stuck it in the pocket of his jeans. 

He sat back on the ground and watched the grass move with the breeze. Through the pounding in his ears, he could hear Grunkle Stan arguing about insurance and money with people who probably didn’t have any answers for him. 

Everything was still a blur. 

It hadn’t taken them long to fully extinguish the fire, but the smoke still hung heavy in the air. By the time the firemen had left, hours had passed, and Dipper had had practically everybody in the town come by to check on them and offer up anything they could. Dipper couldn’t talk, so Grunkle Stan turned them all away. Even after the firemen confirmed that nothing in Dipper’s room was salvageable, he wasn’t ready to take any handouts. 

“Dipper, it’s time to go.” 

Dipper’s eyes flitted up to his great uncle, who looked like he had aged ten years over the course of a few hours. Dipper didn’t blame him. While none of the gift shop or museum were damaged, and while they had had to practically rebuild the Shack multiple times in the past, this still came as a tremendous blow. “Where are we going?” Dipper asked through his daze, his voice now steady but sounding as though he hadn’t had water in days. 

Stan grimaced at him. Dipper couldn’t read the man’s emotions, but he knew they were probably as jumbled as his own. “To a hotel. The Red Cross is putting us up there until everything gets settled down here. After the insurance people come through and the fire department determines a cause, they’ll be able to start on the repairs, so it really shouldn’t take too long to fix up the house, and you can stay downstairs in Mabel’s room-” 

“If it’s alright, Grunkle Stan,” the teen interrupted, pushing himself to his feet, “I’d like to be alone for a while.” 

Stan frowned at him. “Kid, if you think that you’re gonna wait for me to leave and then sneak in-” 

“I’m not!” Dipper defended, though the idea had crossed his mind. “I just… I’m just going to go into the woods for a while. To my thinking spot.” 

The man looked uncertain still. “Your sister’s plane should be landing soon,” he reminded him. “And you’re gonna have to tell her what happened when she calls.” 

Dipper blanched at the thought, but nodded. He hadn’t realized that that much time had passed since they had dropped Mabel at the airport. The flight to Piedmont wouldn’t normally be a long one, but with a layover somewhere in northern California, it was nearly four hours. He was certain that Mabel would probably be about ready to jump on the next plane back to Gravity Falls when Dipper tells her what happened. “I know,” he affirmed. “I have my phone on me, so you can just… just send me the address of the hotel, or something. I’ll find my way out there later tonight.” 

Stan looked like the last thing he wanted to do was leave the boy alone, but he gave a curt nod and clasped Dipper on the shoulder. Dipper was suddenly extremely grateful that his great uncle had never been one to dig too deep into things and tended to stay out of his and Mabel’s personal business as much as possible. His avoidance of anything related to feelings was probably the only thing getting him to agree, or else he might not have ever deemed Dipper emotionally stable enough to be left by himself. "It'll be okay, kid," he murmured, unusually gentle. "We'll get everything sorted out. It'll be alright." 

Dipper nodded, though all he wanted to do was say, _The Journal isn't alright._

His great uncle gave him one last glance before heading for the car. Dipper stood there until the vehicle disappeared from sight and he was left alone, the smell of smoke still lingering in the air. 

He took off for the woods, trying to gather his thoughts. He started off walking but soon broke into a sprint. When his phone started ringing in his pocket, he reached in and pushed a button to silence it without checking the call. He ran until the sun dipped below the tree line and the cicadas started chirping. He ran until the burning in his lungs tore his attention away from his thoughts. 

But eventually, even years’ worth of built-up endurance from running away from monsters wore out and he was forced to jog down to walking pace. As he caught his breath, his thoughts flooded back into his mind with one as the focal point: _you can’t run away from your problems._

It was only then that he started to consider all of the other things lost on top of his research. All of his clothes (sweater upon sweater made by Mabel). All of his personal items (scrapbooks, also made by Mabel). His laptop. And even his college textbooks- _fuck_ , well over a thousand dollars worth of college textbooks that would have to be replaced before he started school in a few weeks. His parents already had enough on their plates, being so generous so as to pay for the college tuition of _two_ children at the same time. Dipper couldn’t even imagine having to ask them to shell out _more_ money to pay off the book fees. He only had so much money built up himself from part-time jobs he had taken during the school year. 

Had Grunkle Stan called them yet? Did they know? Did Mabel know? She had to be back at their house by now, but Dipper couldn’t bring himself to pull out his phone and check. 

By the time Dipper’s legs gave out and he fell to the ground, all light had long since disappeared from the sky. Even the moon was shrouded behind clouds. Dipper’s eyes had somewhat adjusted to the darkness, but that didn’t make it any less dangerous. Every unfamiliar call in the distance, every flash of eyes hidden within bushes… they all served to remind him how helpless he was without the Journal. 

He drew his legs up to his chest, sitting in the middle of the clearing. He kept his eyes moving in all directions, scanning the underbrush for any sign of a creature ready to eat him. He didn’t know what he would do if something were to attack, but he wasn’t just going to turn a blind eye, either. 

What was he going to do without the Journal? All he had now were his memories-

Dipper’s eyes widened. His _memories._

He jumped to his feet, having to take a moment to steady himself on now-wobbly legs. He fumbled around on the edge of the clearing until he found a pointed stick. It would have to do. 

He made quick work of drawing protective runes in the dirt around the clearing, thankful that that was one thing he knew he’d never forget, with or without the Journal.These symbols had become very familiar to him over the years; not only had he implemented them within the protection of the Shack, but they were also drawn all over their house in Piedmont. He drew each one carefully; he had had far too many incidents of drawing a line slightly more skewed than needed and ending up with a much different result than the intended one. 

When he slept, he could enter the mindscape on command. But in the waking hours, it required a short incantation to move from one plane to the other. Either way, it left his body unconscious and defenseless. The runes would at least help with some of that. It would still be best for Dipper to be in and out of the mindscape quickly, though. While the runes would certainly protect him against smaller supernatural creatures, there was no promise against the more strong ones, and they wouldn't do anything to stop actual animals. Dipper had seen a mountain lion too many to believe that the paranormal was his only adversary out here. 

With the proper sigils inscribed in the dirt, Dipper threw the stick off to the side, sat down on his knees, and took a deep breath. He cleared his throat and forced himself to steady his breathing before he spoke, Mabel's words about safety and proper Latin usage echoing in his head. His voice was clear and steady when he muttered, _“Terra mentium.”_

Dipper blinked and his world shifted. The clearing he was in now looked identical to the one he was sure his body was collapsed in, but the sky was no longer dark. Instead, the entire forest was in monochrome. Dipper couldn’t exactly call it “daytime,” but it wasn’t nighttime, either. Time didn’t exist within the mindscape. 

For some reason, the calm, never-changing scenery of the mindscape served to wipe away most of his anxiety. For the first time in hours, Dipper felt like he could breathe. This was his mind, and he was safe here. 

He started off in the direction of the manor, praying that it wouldn’t end up like his dream last night. Was that really just last night? It felt like years had passed since he had been in his room with Mabel, sharing memories of their summers in Gravity Falls. 

Maybe Stan was right; maybe everything was going to be okay. Not for the first time, Dipper applauded how helpful the mindscape could be. When he reached the manor, he’d be able to access his memories of doing research and be able to copy them down. While he wouldn’t have the actual Journal or his rare books, he’d still have enough information to make replicas. Dipper was always amazed at how much information existed within his actual memories when he was never able to just recall that knowledge on his own. You definitely get more from a memory when you get to see it played out in front of you. 

The manor was exactly where it should be: one hundred paces from the spot where Dipper appeared in the mindscape. While it appeared slightly dilapidated in the bleakness of his mind, Dipper still felt that it looked elegant. It loomed at a height nearly that of the trees, looking vaguely like the Northwest mansion. Vines grew around the railing leading up the stairs, making the yard look overgrown. In reality, nothing _grew_ in the mindscape, and the vegetation was exactly the same as when Dipper first designed the place. It made the manor look like something out of an old horror movie, and that was exactly how Dipper liked it. 

The door creaked open with little resistance when Dipper pushed at it, letting himself in. Dipper snapped his fingers, and the room immediately lit up with several lanterns scattered about, covering the otherwise-grayscale front room with a warm glow. The fireplace roared to life as well, but after a second, Dipper waved a hand and extinguished the flames. Despite everything, he started to feel at ease. He was in control here. 

The mindscape was where he practiced magic. While practically everything was possible within the confines of his minds, he tried to limit being able to do things just by willing them. When he recited spells, he wanted to get the effects because of the spell and not just because he had willed it so. Still, magic was inherently easier in the mind. He could spend an entire night on one incantation and then wake up and not even be able to choke out the first few words without stumbling over one. 

As Dipper climbed a winding staircase, the light followed him, more and more lanterns beginning to glow without Dipper even having to do anything. They cast an eerie glow on the large, dramatic paintings of he and Mabel that hung on the walls. The paintings didn’t exist in the real world, of course, but in his mind, he had conjured them up to look as if they were rich children in the Victorian age. He had never mentioned them to Mabel, but he knew that it would crack her up. He still grinned when he saw them. 

He bypassed the second floor, going straight for the third. The entire manor was full of hallways that contained doors that contained hallways full of more doors. It was all a labyrinth and it had taken Dipper years of construction to get his memories in a semblance of an order. It didn’t help that memories were constantly popping up as the events occurred, and so Dipper always had to go back and sort things and create new hallways. 

Accessing his mindscape proved more difficult from Piedmont, so Dipper normally had to wait until he was back in Gravity Falls to make any real adjustments. Sorting through nine months’ worth of new memories floating around was always a pain. 

He hung right when he reached the top floor, knowing exactly where he was going. The third floor held most of what he deemed to be his most important memories. He passed a door to a hallway labeled, _“DO NOT OPEN!!!”_ in what looked like crude, out-of-place Sharpie writing. It contained far too many memories of bullies and puberty and being rejected, and Dipper had long since locked it with every binding spell he knew just in case somebody or something else got into his mind. 

He walked past _“Mabel Memories”_ and _“Final Exams”_ and _“Gravity Falls”_ and went straight to _“Research.”_ It was close to the end of the hallway, and only a few doors stood between it and the balcony that led outside. He had consulted this hallway many times during his magic practice. If he couldn’t remember a spell off the top of his head, it was easy enough to find the doorway in that hall labeled for the specific book he needed (once, when he had told Mabel about it, she had asked him why he didn’t just conjure up the book itself and read directly from it and Dipper had spent well over an hour explaining how you couldn’t read in dreams and how it was different from looking at a memory of reading). 

His hand fell to the silver doorknob, and he took a deep breath. Everything was going to be okay. He just had to look at his memories and then he could copy all of his work down in the real world. It wouldn’t be the same as owning the original copies, especially with the Journal, but it was better than nothing. 

He pushed the door open and was immediately hit in the face with a cloud of black smoke.

“No,” he whispered, panicked, as he pushed into the hallway. “No!” 

The hall was filled with smoke, but it wasn’t the same sentiment cloud from his nightmare. No, it was more like the _actual_ smoke from the fire at the Mystery Shack, thick and smelling like burnt wood. Dipper waved his hands frantically in the air, trying to clear it even as he inhaled too much and felt bile rising in his throat. What the hell was going on?

He didn’t need the smoke to clear all the way to find out. Every door was burnt to a crisp, a pile of ash lying in the spot where each one should be. Dipper's knees wobbled.

He would have thrown up had this not been the mindscape, and even so, it still felt like a struggle to hold his stomach. No. No. No. This couldn’t be happening. The fire had happened in the human realm, not in the mindscape. His books had been burnt, not his memories. 

How did that make any sense? It wasn’t as though he couldn’t remember-

Dipper froze in place. Thinking about his research, his mind was suddenly cloudy. It was as though a switch had been flipped. He couldn’t recall the name of a single demonology book that he owned. He tried to force out a spell, any spell, and felt the words die on his lips. He knew that he knew these things, but as hard as he tried, he couldn’t get the thoughts to come to his head. They were like a dream that Dipper could remember having but couldn’t remember the contents of. 

He could only recall a few certain pages of the Journal, when he _knew_ that he had that book memorized from cover to cover. Gnomes. Bill Cipher. Healing herbs. Glowing moss. The rest of the book was a blur. What color was the cover of the book again? Was it red? Red sounded right. 

A choked cry came from his lips.

His head hurt so bad, and he didn’t realize that he was holding it and tugging at his hair until it hurt bad enough to tear another pained cry out of him. What was going on? What was happening? How could this happen? 

There was no way that this had been caused by a supernatural creature. Dipper had sanctions on both the Shack and on his mind. But there was no other explanation. This was heavy magic, and Dipper couldn’t even place it. He couldn’t place any of his research, because he didn’t remember any of it. He thought back to scribbling notes into margins of books, but couldn’t picture what he was writing.

What did he even know about the supernatural? He could picture creatures but couldn’t imagine their traits. He could remember venturing in the woods, being with Mabel and running away from creatures, but they were all featureless blobs of shadow.

Other memories crept into his head, ones that weren’t filed under research but were still being affected. He could hear Mabel screaming in his ears as if it were happening right now, but he could also hear his own desperate cries and sobs and mumbled Latin. He could see Mabel, a deep gash down her face and another across her throat. He could see himself, covered in blood that might have been his or his twin’s or the monsters- he couldn’t remember. He racked his brain for whatever the creature was that had done this, and just as the memory Dipper was about to look up and see, the memory crumbled in on itself and was locked away.

Hot tears streamed down Dipper’s face. This had to be another nightmare. There was no way that this was possibly happening to him in real life. 

He didn’t even know how to get himself out of the mindscape anymore. 

“Well, well,” a voice behind him clicked, sounding amused. Dipper’s eyes widened and his blood ran cold. The mindscape dropped several degrees in temperature, and the hallway seemed to darken, growing a thicker shade of gray.

“Someone’s looking _desperate_.”


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is extremely dialogue-heavy and I am sorry for that.

“Someone’s looking _desperate_.”

Dipper clenched his fists, his nails biting into his skin as he whirled around with burning eyes to face the triangular demon. Said demon was, as expected, hovering level with Dipper’s face with an excited gleam in his eye. 

“ _Leave_ , Bill,” the boy snarled. Around him, the mindscape trembled. Dipper worked to steady his breathing, knowing he was on the verge of an anxiety attack and not anticipating that it would go well with his body still being unconscious. 

While this was the first time he had seen the demon this summer, he certainly wasn’t surprised. Bill had popped up to cause trouble enough times over the years that his presence no longer shocked nor unnerved the teen. While the demon had tried to destroy the Journal several times over the past few summers as well as causing some other mischief (a particular week-long event in which he possessed Preston Northwest and attempted to destroy the town stood out in his mind), he had become more of a nuisance than a threat to Dipper. 

Why Bill? Why had he been cursed to have the dream demon be one of the only supernatural things he could remember?

Bill narrowed his eye, and a picture of the burning Shack flashed briefly across his surface. Dipper flinched. “Wow, Pine Tree!” he laughed. The sound was enough to send cold shivers down Dipper’s spine. “That’s really no way to talk to the only guy in this dimension who could possibly help you out right now.” At the word “help,” a still image of shaking hands engulfed in blue flames flashed across his surface. Dipper knew immediately that the hand Bill was shaking was his, from their “deal” during his first summer in Gravity Falls. He cringed at the memory. 

Dipper shook his head. “No. Not happening. I don’t want anything to do with you.” Even as the words spilled from his mouth, a part of Dipper was questioning them. While he’d rather die than risk making another deal with the demon, the pounding in his head at his sudden memory loss thought otherwise. 

Bill _tsk_ ed. “What a shame,” he drawled, floating a bit closer. Dipper stepped back, his foot landing in a pile of soot. He glanced down at his sneakers, now blackened from the ash and smoke. It covered the hall floor to the point where Dipper could no longer see the marble tiling. "It's been six years now, hasn't it, Pine Tree?" the demon asked nonchalantly, eye wide, as if he didn't already know. 

_Seven_ , Dipper thought, but instead just snapped, "Six years too many of dealing with _you_." The moment it left his mouth, Dipper realized how childish it sounded. 

That was apparently _not_ the best response, as Bill's eye flashed a dangerous red and the triangle snarled, "You know, the Author of your _precious Journal_ investigated the mysteries of Gravity Falls for six years, too.”

Dipper froze, the words serving to temporarily distract him from the main problem at hand. How much _did_ Bill know about the Author? As there were several Journal pages written on the demon (some of the few pages that Dipper had a clear memory of), he knew that the Author must have gotten at least somewhat acquainted with him. Enough to find out just how dangerous he really was. He tried to choke out an answer but the words died in his throat. 

Bill ignored Dipper’s response and continued, "But, y’know, that was before he _oh-so-unfortunately_... disappeared. I'd hate to see that happen to you, Pine Tree. And by the looks of it,” he floated past Dipper and eyed up the ashy hall, “You’re not headed in the best direction.” 

Dipper blanched, clenching his fists at his sides once more. He had to fight not to shake, knowing it would please the demon far too much. He ignored the last comment. "What do you know about the Author?" the boy demanded, raising his voice and continuing to stand his ground. "What did you do to him? _What the hell did you do to him_?" Is this what had happened to the Author? Had he had his memories destroyed as well? Investigated for years only to have his research destroyed and his memories locked up, eventually driving him insane? Was Bill just exaggerating, or were Dipper’s circumstances actually mirroring those of the Author?

Bill cackled, the ethereal sound bouncing off the walls of the manor and echoing throughout it. An image of a six-fingered hand flashed across his surface for just a second before he returned to his normal yellow-gold. "The Author made enough mistakes without my help," he drawled, but then added in a sickly-sweet tone, "Pine Tree, I'll admit, I'm a bit disappointed in you on this one."

Dipper frowned. What was he talking about?

"The answer to your question- about the Author, that is- was clearly spelled out in the Journal. Guess you just didn't look hard enough." Bill shrugged dismissively, looking bored, as if he wasn't just nonchalantly waving away all of Dipper's hard work. He glanced back down at the ash again, adding, “Too late now, I suppose.”

Dipper's brow furrowed, and he tried to ignore the panic rising in his chest. No. No, that wasn't possible. Even with his fuzzy memories, he knew that there was nothing written in the Journal that possibly hinted at what caused the Author’s disappearance. "You're lying!" he yelled, and his voice shook. "I know the Journal from cover to cover, and there's nothing like that in there!" Well, he _used_ to. Now, the Journal pages were a hazy memory that he just couldn't get back.

Bill laughed, and with a wave of his hand, the Journal appeared mid-air, flipping through its pages rapidly. Dipper lunged for it, and the demon cackled when the boy's hands went right through it and he stumbled forward. The demon’s voice was full of a mix of malice and amusement as he taunted, "Guess you'll never know, will you, kid?" He snapped his fingers and the Journal erupted in flames and, within seconds, became ash, adding to the piles on the floor. 

The overwhelming hurt and confusion that Dipper felt was quickly replaced by a rage that overcame him like a hurricane. "You set the fire," he realized, and for once, his voice was low and steady.

But Bill just laughed again, looking thoroughly amused. "Not this time, Pine Tree. Believe it or not, I have better things to do than ruin your life, as entertaining as that would be." 

Dipper glared. "I don't believe you." His head was _really_ starting to hurt now. Bill gave off a bright light, _too_ bright for the ever-flickering monochrome hallway. 

"Smart. But this time, it _is_ the truth. You brought this one on yourself, kid. Someone or something's not happy with all the digging around you've been doing. You're in over your head." More images flashed across Bill’s surface, moments from Dipper’s life: him carrying a torch in a cave, stumbling upon a cove of faeries, fighting off a snake-woman. A dozen images flickered but Dipper could only remember doing half of them. 

He hated to think of how close attention Bill must have been paying to him to have seen all of those things. 

Dipper fumbled for the words. While he knew what Bill was saying was probably true, he hated to admit that his protective spells weren’t able to keep evil out of the Shack. “The house should have been protected.” 

Bill laughed, his surface flashing just a bit brighter with every downbeat. “ _That_ lousy charmwork? I’ve seen stronger sigils placed by practicing preachers, and they’re relying on a faulty god to save them! Try slaughtering a lamb next time, kid. Might get you some better results.” 

Dipper took in the words, fuming silently. In the meantime, Bill seemed to be enjoying his pain. 

The demon floated further down the end of the hallway, admiring the work. "Wow, Pine Tree, somebody really didn't want you to know all of this!" Bill laughed. Dipper glared once more, scowling as the demon drifted down and pinched a bit of the ash between two fingers. 

When he finally willed himself to talk again, his voice wavered. "Just... just get out, Bill. You're not making this any better." 

"And I'm not trying to, Pine Tree," he responded, his eye flashing red, the same maniacal look still clear in it. His voice lowered, losing the echo when he continued, "But I _can_ , you know." 

The mindscape seemed to freeze around Dipper then, the monochrome universe around him feeling colder than ever. _No_ , he thought. _Never_. Dipper didn't trust his voice not to shake, so he just shook his head rapidly. 

Bill narrowed his eye then, looking a bit thrown off, but he quickly shook off the look and didn’t appear fazed. "Come on, Pine Tree," he purred, suddenly appearing right in front of Dipper and gripping his chin with a small hand. Dipper made a noise and attempted to stumble back, but his body was frozen in place by an invisible force. "Hear me out." 

Was this really happening, or was this another nightmare creeping in? Somehow, this was even worse than initially discovering that his memories were fried. 

The demon made it clear that he wasn't backing down until Dipper agreed to listen, so the boy forced himself to nod. Bill made a satisfied noise and floated back, and Dipper felt himself regain control of his body. He feared what would happen if he tried to run, though, so instead, he tried to will himself to wake up. Bill seemed to realize what he was doing and let it go on for several seconds, growing more and more amused as Dipper started to panic. 

"Good luck with that, Pine Tree," he laughed. "You're in my domain now, kid. I make the rules." As if to illustrate this, he waved his hand and suddenly Dipper was dropping to his knees and clasping his hands in front of him like he was praying ( _oh, the irony_ ). 

Dipper looked down at himself, shocked at how he seemed frozen in place once more. This shouldn’t be able to happen. It was his mindscape, so he should just be able to will the demon away. He was good enough at magic to be able to do at least that. 

Bill had gotten stronger since the last time they had met. 

"What do you want?" the teen forced out, voice quiet. He kept his eyes averted until Bill gripped his chin roughly once more. He raised his eyes slowly, and the demon laughed in delight. 

"Now that's the look I like to see, kid!" he exclaimed happily. "Completely _submissive_." He emphasized the second word with such suggestiveness that Dipper was certain he said it only to make him uncomfortable. The comment made Dipper's blood boil and he wanted to lash out, but seeing as that wasn't possible at the moment, he just kept his mouth shut and waited for an answer. Bill looked unhappy at the lack of a retort, but continued, "Let's make a deal, Pine Tree." 

Dipper shook his head. "No. I'm not falling for that again." 

"You haven't even heard what I have to offer, kid!" 

"And I don't want to." 

Bill studied him for a moment, and then shrugged. "Unfortunately for you, it doesn't look like you have much of a _choice_." The last word came out as a snarl. 

The demon tightened his grip on Dipper's chin. The teen had to wonder if Bill could hurt him enough here to the point that it transferred over into the waking world. While none of his nightmares had hurt his actual body, he still had no idea just how strong the dream demon actually was. Dipper took a deep breath. "... Fine." The walls seemed to lean in towards him. 

"Excellent!" The demon's eye glinted with something that didn't even resemble human emotion. "I can fix all of this, Pine Tree. Give you all your memories back. And I can prevent the fire from ever happening, too." 

Dipper eyed him warily, looking for a loophole. He had to clear his throat, swallowing his pride. "And… and all my stuff would be fine? It would be like it never happened?" he asked, dubious. 

"Exactly, kid. You'll remember it, but nobody else will. When you wake up it'll be like this was just another bad dream." 

Dipper frowned. It couldn't be that easy. Bill suddenly let up on whatever force was holding Dipper in place, so he used the opportunity to stand up on shaking legs. Even after the force was gone, he could feel the magic tingling within him. He tried to will it to his palms, knowing he should be able to summon something, but nothing happened. Maybe he’d forgotten how to do magic. Maybe whatever thing had caused this had locked up his powers. 

Bill waited. Dipper took a deep breath. "How... how do I know I can trust you?" 

"You can't." Bill shrugged.

That wasn’t reassuring. He couldn’t believe he was even considering this. He didn’t want to, but he knew somewhere in his mind that he couldn’t _not_ do this. He _had_ to have his memories. It was his entire life. He hadn’t spent seven summers risking his life in Gravity Falls only to not remember any of it. 

Dipper struggled to find the words. "I... if I make this deal, there are certain conditions. I'm not going to be cheated on this." Bill rolled his eye, but motioned for him to continue. "This can't be some 'butterfly effect' thing where you stop the fire at the Shack and start one somewhere else. I want everyone to stay safe. Nobody can get hurt by this. Especially my family." He didn't know _how_ someone would be hurt by this, but he didn't put it past the demon to find a way if he were so careless as to leave an opportunity open. 

Bill rolled his eye once more. "But that's so _boring_ , Pine Tree." 

"Agree or no deal." 

Bill's eye glinted again. "Fine." 

Dipper took a deep breath. He couldn't believe he was actually doing this. "What do you want in return, anyway? And don't just say, 'a favor.' I'm not owing you something down the line. I want to know everything I’ll be doing and how it’ll affect me." 

Bill snorted, and Dipper was sure that if he had a mouth, he’d be grinning. "Spoken like a true deal-maker, kid. I'd be proud of you if I didn't hate you so much." Dipper rolled his eyes. "As for what I want..." He hovered closer again, and Dipper forced himself to hold his ground and not avert his eyes. "I want _you_." 

The words sent a shiver through the boy and he immediately felt his face heat up. He spluttered out something incomprehensible, sure his face was as red as a tomato, and the demon erupted in laughter. 

"Oh, Pine Tree, your expression is rich!" he cackled. Dipper realized that that probably wasn't what Bill had meant, then, and he felt a wave of shame wash over him. Instead of letting it show, he just scowled at the demon. Bill pushed past him, then, out of the hallway, and Dipper quickly turned tail and followed. 

"Where-" 

"Hush." 

Dipper fell silent and followed the demon down the hall and to the French doors at the end. To the balcony. Was Bill going to tell him to throw himself off, or something? 

This was one of the few areas of the manor that Dipper never ventured to. Standing frozen while his sister fell three stories to the ground, even whilst knowing it wasn't real, tended to leave a mark on him. 

Except this time, when Bill pushed open the doors, it wasn't the familiar landscape of the trees that Dipper expected. The balcony led out to a sea of fire, angry and red and definitely _not_ looking like it belonged in the mindscape. 

Dipper's breath caught in his throat as he followed the dream demon out onto the ledge. While the fire was but a few feet away, he felt no heat radiating off of it. As he stared, the burning trees morphed into houses and buildings and a familiar water tower still graffitied with a muffin-slash-explosion. Gravity Falls. 

"Something big is coming, kid." 

Dipper turned to stare at the demon incredulously. "I-" he choked out, staring at the fire as it crackled and consumed the place he had grown to call home. "I'm not going to help you do this, Bill." 

The dream demon laughed as if that was the funniest thing Dipper had said yet. Dipper frowned. "So ignorant, Pine Tree. Are you really so close-minded so as to believe that I'm the only demon who's set his sights on your precious little town?" 

Dipper eyed him carefully. "I guess not," he muttered, slowly. 

"Gravity Falls is a hotspot for anomalies, kid. A spiritual breeding ground, if you will. I’m sure you know that.” He paused, waiting for a response, and after Dipper nodded, he continued, “Every demon worth his salt wants to be the one to burn it to the ground- to be the one to absorb all of the dark energy that the apocalypse will bring. And if you were as smart as you seem to think you are, you'd team up with me and be on the right side of history when this all goes down." 

While nothing that Bill was saying really surprised Dipper, it still came as a blow. Had he been wasting his time all summer with focusing on himself and trying to stop his nightmares? Was there really something bigger coming? If so, then Dipper needed his research back now more than ever. 

One thing still didn't make sense, though. "What do you want me for, anyway?" he asked. While he was certainly educated on the paranormal and becoming slightly okay at magic, he was no match for a demon, and he had no idea how he could benefit Bill whatsoever. 

Bill hesitated, and when he spoke again, he sounded slightly reluctant, as if he dreaded having to admit that Dipper could help him at all. "I need... a battery." 

Dipper's eye twitched. "Let's save time and _not_ speak cryptically."

Bill didn’t have a mouth, but Dipper was sure that if he did, he’d be scowling. "Alright, _Pine Tree_ ," he sneered. "Since you're in such a hurry." Bill waved his hand and the flames disappeared. Seconds later, the rest of the mindscape followed, leaving Dipper floating in a void, miles and miles of empty black space extending around him. 

Dipper choked out a startled cry, expecting himself to fall at any time now. But instead, he floated peacefully there, and though there was nothing solid to step on, he found that he could still walk forward as if there was. Bill stopped him when he snapped his fingers and an apparition appeared before them. 

It was Dipper- except for how it _wasn't_ , as Dipper was standing just feet away, watching with wide eyes and bated breath. The phantasm of Dipper was unconscious, floating in subspace with his eyes closed and his limbs strewn about. His hair floated back like he was underwater, his birthmark showing, and though Dipper knew it was just an illusion, he felt overly exposed. 

"Bill, what-" His voice cut off as the mirage started to glow and blue particles started to rise from "his" body. 

"Energy," Bill said simply. Dipper felt as though he was watching his life force drain away. 

When Dipper didn't respond, Bill continued, "That's the one thing you meatsacks have always had a lot of: life energy. And _that_ is what I need from you, Pine Tree." With this, he closed his fist and the mirage-Dipper vanished, leaving the real Dipper trapped alone in a matterless void with a dream demon. “Life energy is nearly as strong as dark energy, and I’m going to need a lot of it for what I’m planning.” That didn’t sound good to Dipper, but he dreaded hearing the answer, so he kept his mouth shut. 

"So," the demon started, sounding a little impatient, "What'll it be?" He stuck out a flaming hand. 

“‘ _What'll it be?_ '" Dipper echoed. "I'm still trying to take all of this in! If I'm your- your... _battery_ ," he tried not to choke on the word, "then what all does that entail?" 

Bill rolled his eye, the blue flames extinguishing as he dropped the hand. "You'll... belong to me, in a sense. Be bound to me. Mind and body." 

"And _soul_?" Dipper spat, a bit proud that he could keep his voice steady. In reality, he was just trying to ignore the implications of that sentence. 

Bill waved a hand. "Details, details. Anyways, whenever I need more energy, I'll just drain some from you and-" 

"And what'll happen to _me_?" Dipper cried. He could only imagine scenarios in which he got knocked out cold while driving or working with power tools. 

"Relax, Pine Tree!" Bill actually sounded slightly... offended? "I'll make sure not to drain you when you're at school or working or whatever else you dumb meatsacks consider important-" 

"No leaving me somewhere potentially dangerous, either," Dipper injected. 

"Right, right, whatever. It's not as big of a deal as you think, really. I'll get some needed energy to help me with... what I'm doing, and you'll get a good night's rest. And, on top of that, I'm so generously helping you get your research and your memories back. And through it all, you’ll be bound to me, so when all of this apocalypse nonsense goes down, you’ll have the upperhand. Maybe you’ll even be able to find out who or what locked up your memories.” 

“And what do I have to _do_ , exactly?” he pressed, growing more and more suspicious. 

“Just keep yourself in tip-top shape!” the demon chirped, suddenly sounding chipper. “Eat well, get plenty of sleep. All of those things that fleshbags have to do to stay healthy.”

That didn’t sound too difficult (well, maybe the sleep part; if his nightmares didn’t stop, there was no guarantee). Dipper tried to run through the words in his mind, looking for a loophole. Looking for a _way out_. At this point, his head was so full of all of the new information he had learned (and the _lack of_ the information he had lost) and it was all too much to process. What was the worst that could happen? 

The Author's words about Bill echoed in his ears. 

_Do not summon at all costs!!_

"So," Bill's eye flashed blue, gleaming. "Do we have a deal?" He extended his hand once more, erupting into blue flames. Dipper eyed it warily. When he hesitated, Bill added, “Time’s ticking, Pine Tree. Sleeping in the woods all night is pretty dangerous, if you ask me.” 

_Can't sleep._

Dipper's hands trembled. In the darkness of the void, the only things that stood out were Bill's glowing blue hand and his equally bright golden eye. 

_Can't be trusted._

He reached out and grasped the demon's hand. The blue fire spread up his arm, but it sent a wave of electricity through him rather than heat. Magic. "Yeah." He tried to ignore the sense of dread and regret that set in instantly. 

Bill held onto his hand for a second before dropping it with a wicked laugh. "Good choice, kid. Now,” he was suddenly a lot closer and Dipper found himself unable to move, “I’ll be taking the first payment.” 

Another shock went through him as Bill placed an abnormally-warm hand on his cheek. Dipper's head suddenly felt heavy, and Bill's figure in front of him started to blur. He blinked his eyes rapidly, trying to snap out of himself, but seconds later he was on the ground- or whatever constituted as 'ground' in this void. The wave of nausea hit him like a truck. "Oh god," he groaned as his vision went dark. 

As his mind got fuzzier and fuzzier, he was vaguely aware of Bill chuckling and murmuring, "There's no more God for you, Pine Tree," before he woke up with a scream.


	4. Chapter Four

When Dipper’s eyes shot open, the sun was high in the sky. The scream died in his throat as he took in the familiar surroundings. His red hoodie and jeans were slightly damp and his arms were burning with mosquito bites, but the circle was still intact. 

"No way," Dipper mumbled, his voice hoarse, as he pushed himself up on his elbows. He hadn't been in the mindscape for that long. Had the deal really drained him enough to knock him out until morning? 

Had all of that really happened? 

Sitting up fully, his head spun; just how much energy had Bill taken from him? And had he drained him just now, or had he been unconscious and dreamless for hours? A quick glance at his phone confirmed that it was indeed August 1st, the next day. He cringed as he saw the dozen missed calls from Mabel and a few more from Grunkle Stan. He unlocked his phone so he could read the flood of texts from his twin. His eyes burned from sleeping in his contacts. 

At 5:17pm: **hey bro-bro just landed in piedmont**

And immediately afterwards, **which you would know if you would answer your phone**

At 6:02pm: **dipperrrrr**

At 7:47pm: **grunkle stan says you went into the woods. hes not worried but i guess he doesnt realize how dumb you are**

At 8:50pm: **you'd better not be dead**

At 9:28pm: **dipper i'm really getting worried :'(**

The texts went on and on, a mix of emojis and threats ( **dipstick i s2g if you dont answer your phone i'll tell grunkle stan about the hellhound you kept in the shack for 2 weeks!!** ), getting progressively more and more frantic before dying off around one in the morning. But there wasn't a single mention of the fire. Bill had kept his end of the deal. Dipper was sure of it. 

Dipper also realized that his head was no longer fuzzy. He could remember his research as clear as always. He knew the exact words written on almost every page of the Journal. It was hard to believe that he could have ever forgotten. It still felt weird to even _think_ about suddenly not being able to remember the most important parts of his life. 

It felt as though a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. As he pushed himself up to his feet, he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in. The relief within him was the best thing he had ever felt. 

He tucked his phone back into his pocket, making a mental note to call his twin the second he got back to the Shack. He was pretty sure he'd be apologizing for a while. Before he withdrew his hand, he felt it brush against a piece of paper. He pulled it out. 

It was the receipt of the waiver he had signed to decline medical treatment. So that still existed, then. Maybe the only physical evidence. He unfolded it and smoothed it out, half expecting to find a warning from Bill written in blood. But it was the same thing: a sheet full of text that Dipper hadn't read through, spelling out the legal processes that made it clear that the hospital could not be held responsible if something were to happen to Dipper later on. 

Drawn next to Dipper's wobbly signature at the bottom was a small black triangle.

\----

The next few weeks went by in a blur. Dipper spent half of his time preparing for college and the other half working at the Shack. He had little time to go into the woods and do field work, and for once, he thought that maybe that was for the best. 

He _had_ read over all of his research on dream demons, however. Still, his books and notes yielded no information that Dipper hadn’t already known. He wasn’t any closer to finding out who or what had set the fire in the Shack and locked up his memories, and he _definitely_ wasn’t any closer to finding out how to get out of this deal with Bill. 

Bill had yet to pull him out of reality and into the mindscape, nor had he appeared in Dipper’s dreamscape while he slept. Dipper didn’t overlook the subtle changes in his mindscape, though. Little images of Bill seemed to follow him everywhere, drawn onto his mindscape’s paintings of he and Mabel and patterned onto a large, hanging tapestry showing a burning pine tree that had definitely _not_ existed in the manor before. Try as he may, Dipper was incapable of willing the triangles away. He found himself having less and less control in the mindscape and feeling more and more like he did in the real world: powerless. 

Every day that Bill failed to show up to claim his energy or his soul or _whatever_ , Dipper grew more and more suspicious. He kept expecting the demon to show up at any moment, likely at the least convenient time. At every flickering light, every too-long silence in the Shack, he braced himself for the worst. Bill had in no way made it clear how often this deal was going to affect Dipper’s life; was he going to make an appearance every few days? Every few weeks? Once every ten years? 

It was almost worse that he _didn’t_ show. He was turning Dipper into a nervous wreck. 

Maybe that was what he wanted. 

If Grunkle Stan noticed anything off about his behavior, he didn’t mention it. He was content to pull Dipper out of bed at seven in the morning to make him work. 

For the most part, Stan still ran the tours, though he occasionally passed the job on to Dipper (in the summer, it was Mabel’s job, as both she and Stan agreed that Dipper was “too boring to charm customers”). As Wendy and Soos were now both gone and moved on with their lives, the Mystery Shack had long since hired two new workers: a short girl named Sidney with dark skin and bright eyes and a tall, lanky boy named Connor who looked bored out of his wits more often than not. 

They were no Wendy and Soos, but Dipper got along with them well enough. He had managed to engage Sidney in a conversation about dragons (she was just talking about her favorite fictional book series while Dipper was recalling a too-close call with a wyvern the summer before), and Connor had covered for him with Grunkle Stan when he ditched work one night to watch a migration of faeries. 

They alternated jobs around the Shack; most of the time, the two teens switched off working the counter and restocking inventory. Dipper just did whatever job needed to be done at the moment. With no permanent handyman around, he was often left being the one to fix things (Grunkle Stan always yelled at Connor to do it, but the teenager would just stare at the screwdriver like he had never seen one before in his life, and Dipper found that it was just easier to do it himself). 

Right now, Dipper was skimming through a beaten-up copy of Malachi Martin’s _Hostage to the Devil_ from behind the gift shop’s counter. Connor had asked him to cover for him while he took a “short break,” but it had been well over an hour since he had seen the younger teen. In fact, he hadn’t seen either of the Mystery Shack’s part-timers in a while. 

Just as he thought that, he heard a crash and a voice that sounded like the meeker of the two workers say, “Oops.” 

_“Dipper!”_ Grunkle Stan roared from somewhere within the Shack. 

Dipper shut his book and slid it under the counter. With a sigh, he grabbed the broom and dustpan. “Yeah, I know,” he called back as he went to find the mess. 

If this was the worst commotion his life had in store for him for a while, then he was perfectly fine with that. 

\------

Mabel started college a few days before him, and her flood of texts and pictures of her homework load were enough to get him nervous for his first day. Every time his phone buzzed, he dreaded looking at its contents as he anticipated that whatever it was would just worsen his anxiety. 

"But it's not so bad, I guess," Mabel mused over Skype the night before Dipper's first day. Her hair was pinned back with neon green barrettes and she was chewing on a pen as she talked. "My Econ professor is pretty cute." 

Dipper rolled his eyes. "How old?" 

Mabel chewed on her bottom lip, mulling over the question. "Ehh. Late twenties, maybe?" 

Dipper frowned. "Nah. You could do better." He minimized Skype, Mabel’s video feed moving to take up a small rectangle in the bottom righthand corner of his screen. "Plus, an Economics major is probably super dull." Mabel giggled. "Go for your Design professor, at least." 

He opened a new tab, clicking on a bookmark. While the page loaded, his eyes flicked down to Mabel's feed, noting her hesitation. When he looked back up at the browser, on which he had opened the website of a used book store in Portland, Mabel spoke slowly, “Yeah, I guess she’s pretty cute.” 

He didn’t miss the lilt on the word “she,” and knew his twin was gauging his reaction. He smiled but didn’t take his eyes off of the list of books he now had pulled up, responding easily, “Then go get her, tiger.” 

He bookmarked the link to a book on _mara_ demons. He’d have to check it out next time he made it out to the city. The title was in Croatian and he was sure the contents were too, so he figured he should start looking for a reputable translation. 

Mabel grinned into the webcam, and while she didn’t show it, Dipper knew she was probably filled with relief. He wondered how long she’d been waiting to bring that up. She couldn’t have possibly thought that Dipper would have minded; she knew very well that Dipper had fooled around with guys and girls equally during high school (and he’d always expected that Mabel had, too, but he was far less likely than she to be nosey about his twin’s personal business). “Yeah,” she murmured, a giggle in her voice, “Maybe I will.” 

\-----

Dipper’s first day of college was underwhelming, to say the least. He wasn’t sure if Mabel for some reason had it harder or if she was just bluffing to psych him out (probably a mix of the two), but the first three hours flew by with ease. 

Dipper had been stupid enough to take on a full eighteen-hour, six-class schedule for his first semester. He had three classes on Monday and Thursday and two on Tuesday and Friday for ninety minutes each, and one on Wednesday night for a full three hours (Dipper was realizing his mistake already). It hadn’t sounded bad when he signed up for classes, but if Mabel was already falling behind on work with one less class than he had, then maybe he was in over his head.

The first two of his three classes for the day (English Composition and Psychology) were easy. They simply went over the syllabus and discussed course materials for the semester. Both professors were young and laid back, and both emphasized that missing one day of class wasn’t the end of the world and that everybody needed a rest day once in a while. Dipper was overly relieved to hear it (especially after it had been drilled in his head throughout high school that he would never be able to be absent). Most of the students in his class seemed to be around his age, and they were a mix of either looking bored or looking anxious. Dipper fell somewhere between the two. He was just relieved that the classes had gone by quickly.

Then came Calculus, and that was where Dipper had started to see what Mabel had been fretting about. 

They went over the syllabus for about two minutes before the professor was passing out a quiz, “to see what they had retained from high school math.” He was suddenly overly grateful that his parents had encouraged he and Mabel to take Pre-Calc their senior year rather than the alternative, “Math for College Readiness,” that was more of a review of Algebra and Geometry than anything else.

As Dipper stared at the paper, trying to recall how to do the problems, he kept waiting for the teacher to say it wouldn’t be for an actual grade. That reassurance never came. The professor was an older man with a snooty accent, a doctorate’s degree, and a stick up his ass. Dipper didn’t see this semester going over well. 

He assigned fifty problems out of the book for homework. Dipper stared at the man in shock, but when he looked around at his fellow students, they were all just hastily scribbling down the assignment and not reacting otherwise. 

Well. He _had_ been told that college would be different than high school. 

The drive back to Gravity Falls felt excruciatingly long by himself. The rain was pouring down, the skies gray, and it served to isolate Dipper even more. Like every day for the past few weeks, Dipper desperately wished for his twin to be there. 

Dipper had expected his great uncle to put him to work the minute he arrived back at the Shack, but Stan had taken one look at him with his wet hair stuck to his face and his Calculus book tucked under his arm and told him to take the night off (“-but don’t get used to it!”). Dipper shot the man a grateful look and retreated up the stairs, his soaked shirt halfway off his head by the time he slipped into his bedroom- 

-and he immediately froze the second the door clicked shut behind him. Because there was somebody in his room. 

Dipper took in the man perched on the edge of his desk, with too-nice clothes and wispy blonde hair, for a full second before the air returned to his lungs. 

“ _GRUNKLE ST_ -” 

“ _Shhh_ , kid,” the man hushed, and how had he crossed the room fast enough to cover Dipper’s mouth with one hand and grab his flailing wrists with the other before Dipper could even finish his call for help? Dipper screamed through the leather-gloved hand over his mouth until the other hand released him and instead pushed against his throat. Dipper cut off his protest out of fear, but the anxiety had welled up inside his chest and it was getting sort of hard to breathe and-

“Pine Tree.” 

And then it hit Dipper like a sack of bricks- or something equally as unpleasant. Bill saw the exact second that the boy realized and released him, stepping back with a grin. Dipper tugged his wet shirt back down over his chest unceremoniously, his cheeks burning, and he stepped around the demon. He kept his back to his dresser, and he was comforted by the knowledge that within it were blessed knives and other objects that he may be able to use to defend himself if need be ( _maybe_ ; he’d never had the chance to test them on an actual demon). He ran through a list of possible weapons in his head as he warily eyed the man in front of him. 

It was so undeniably _Bill_ that Dipper couldn’t believe he didn’t realize it immediately. From the yellow waistcoat with the triangle-shaped buttons to the black dress shirt underneath with the sleeves folded up to the elbows, the man screamed elegance and arrogance and everything in between. He was tall and lean, more so than Dipper, but the teen didn’t doubt for a second that the creature could break him like a toothpick. The demon shifted his weight to one foot and grinned cockily, letting Dipper take in the sight. It pissed Dipper off enough to make him tear his eyes away, ignoring thoughts of _wow his eyes are really gold_ and _of course he still has the bowtie._

“Wh-whose body is that?” Dipper demanded, his voice cracking slightly as a result of his choked scream the minute before. Bill grinned at the noise, and Dipper definitely didn’t miss the flash of pointed teeth. 

“Mine!” the man- the _demon_ \- cheered, and yep those were definitely fang-like teeth. Dipper was itching to find that knife, now. “The one and only. There are so many things you can do when you have extra energy.” He strolled back over to Dipper’s desk, and the boy backed up until his calves hit the edge of the bed. 

“But- but _why_?” the teen spluttered as Bill picked up an amethyst stone from his desk and turned it over in his hand. Didn’t Bill consider humans to be useless meatsacks with more weaknesses than strengths? What use could he possibly have for a human body of his own, especially when it obviously required a lot of extra energy to make in the first place? 

Dipper could read the hesitance on the demon's face, and he reveled in the knowledge that Bill probably hated the transparency that the human form gave him. Bill scowled and muttered, "There are some things that need to be done from the physical realm." 

Dipper raised an eyebrow. Whatever that meant, it didn't sound good. "Like wh-" 

"You ask too many questions, kid," the demon drawled, sounding bored. He picked up Dipper's glasses off the desk, and before the boy could shout an objection, he mused, "I didn't know you wore glasses, Pine Tree." 

"I wear contacts," Dipper snapped, crossing his arms over his chest. His cheeks felt warm. "I wear glasses at night, usually." 

Before Dipper knew what was happening, the demon was in front of him and sliding the glasses onto his face. The boy flinched hard enough that he nearly fell back, and he blinked through the glasses. His vision swam with having them over his already vision-correcting contacts. His head was starting to hurt already. He ripped them off his face, fuming, but didn't say anything. 

Bill was watching him with a puzzled expression. It made Dipper feel very insecure very quickly. "What?" he snapped. 

Bill looked at him for a moment longer and then shrugged, taking the glasses out of his hand. He eyed them for a second before slipping them onto his own face. Dipper's protests died in his throat. The demon's unnaturally golden eyes looked large under the black frames. 

He allowed Bill to grin at him for a split second before he ripped the glasses off of the demon’s face and tossed them onto the desk, inwardly cringing at the rough treatment of the fragile things. He didn't let it show, instead regaining the glare and letting his eyes burn into the demon. "What do you even want, Bill?" 

He knew the answer. Of course he did. But he was biding his time. 

Until what, he didn't know. 

Bill ran a gloved hand through his hair, sighing dramatically. Dipper gritted his teeth.

"Why, Pine Tree, you say that as if you're not happy to see me."

"I'm not."

Bill scowled, and his eyes flashed red so quickly that Dipper almost thought he was seeing things. The demon threw his hands out, gesturing towards Dipper’s bookshelves and the notebooks scattered about the room. He spun around once to emphasize his gesture, his waistcoat flaring out a bit in the back. "I got you all of _this_ back, Pine Tree," he ground out, voice sickly sweet. He stepped closer, his voice lowering as he murmured, "You know,” and now he was only a few inches away from Dipper, close enough for the teen to feel a heat radiating off of him that definitely should not have been coming from someone who wasn’t technically alive, “You'd be nothing without me, _Dipper_." 

The words felt like a slap, and he knew that Bill knew it. He flinched, but he still reacted quickly enough to catch Bill's wrist before the demon could touch his face. Bill stared, bemused, at where Dipper's hand gripped his arm, just below the glove. This wasn't the mindscape, so Bill couldn't trap him in place with magic (but he could probably overpower him physically with ease, so Dipper didn't dare to test it). He dropped the demon's arm like he had been burned, trying to ignore how warm the skin had felt against his clammy palm. 

Something dark flashed in the demon's eyes, his pupils becoming more like the slits that the teen was used to from him, and it served to remind Dipper that the creature he was dealing with was far from human. Sure, he looked like a normal man- and Dipper was suddenly very grateful that he hadn't chosen to have a second set of arms or fifty eyes or some other Eldritch Abomination-esque trait- but he was more dangerous than anything Dipper had ever dealt with. 

Bill seemed content to remind him of that, too. When he spoke again, his voice was low but there was an underlying tone in it that was reminiscent of an old tongue, one used only in magic. "You seem to keep forgetting who you're dealing with, kid," he gritted, as if reading Dipper's thoughts. "You may be good with magic, better than most fleshbags, but no amount of incantations or blessed items are going to get you out of this. Just try to break our deal, _really_. Give me a reason, Pine Tree. I could disassemble your atoms in a human heartbeat." 

Dipper paled at the thought, as he quite liked having his atoms properly assembled, but he didn't give the demon the pleasure of a dramatic reaction. Instead, he just blinked at the blonde, and he could almost _feel_ the magic coursing through the room as the demon worked to calm himself.

When Bill composed himself, his eyes returning to normal, and realized that Dipper really wasn't going to react to his taunting, he pouted but continued, "Anyways, I'm here for your payment." 

Dipper blanched but nodded nonetheless. "Is this gonna knock me out?" he asked slowly, bracing himself as if he was getting a shot. 

"That's kinda what happens to meatsacks without energy, kid." 

He nodded again, feeling stupid. "Yeah. Of course. Right." 

Bill looked bored again, and Dipper was sure he was considering just knocking Dipper out without any more conversation. Dipper was still stalling, trying to psych himself up in his mind. How long was this going to knock him out for? He was sure Grunkle Stan wouldn't think anything of it if he didn't come downstairs all night, but it would be different if he was out for a week.

"Alright, so, let's get this show on th-" 

"Wait!" Dipper interjected, and Bill's eye twitched. "I, uh... can I change out of my wet clothes first?" This wasn't even just a stalling tactic; he was becoming more and more aware of the chill of the room and the damp shirt sticking to his skin. He didn't want to wake up with a cold.

Bill rolled his eyes, sighing with what was much more conviction than Dipper would have expected. "Fine," he huffed. "Just hurry up." 

Dipper's hands played with the bottom of his shirt as he stared at the demon. "Aren't you... uh..." 

"What?" 

"Going to... y'know, _leave_?" 

Bill's eyes glinted, the annoyance ebbing out of him as he took in Dipper's squared shoulders and burning face. He grinned. "What's the matter, Pine Tree? Shy?" 

Dipper went to move back more, panicking when he remembered that he was already backed up to the edge of his bed (and he'd be damned before he would scramble back on his bed and paint _that_ picture for the demon). "N-no! I just- what- why do you-" 

The demon interrupted him with his laughter, somehow even _more_ disturbing without the ethereal echo. He did back up, though, and took a seat in Dipper's desk chair, crossing one leg over the other and leaning forward on his hands. "Go ahead, kid," he purred. "I don't have all day." 

Dipper spluttered out a choked protest, but knew there wasn't more he could say and that he was just extending this torment. He swallowed his pride and turned away, peeling his wet shirt off and pulling one out of his dresser. After realizing how nice it felt to be dry, he shut his eyes, kicked off his shoes and socks, and shucked off his jeans (and he absolutely did _not_ take off his boxers, suddenly extremely grateful that they had remained dry through his pants). He scrambled to pull on a pair of sweatpants and somehow ended up tripping over them and remaining half-dressed for several seconds longer than he would have preferred. Bill cackled, throwing his head back, and Dipper's head throbbed. 

"Enjoy the show?" he spat when he was done, shifting awkwardly. While he was more than a little humiliated, he couldn't help but admit that he felt better in soft, dry clothes.

He was in pajamas and _Bill Cipher_ was wearing a three-piece suit. 

What had happened to Dipper's life?

"Not much of one, if you ask me," Bill shrugged as he stood up and approached Dipper once more. 

Dipper ignored the comment, stiffening when Bill pressed himself close and cupped Dipper's cheek. He shut his eyes and didn't relax until he felt the energy drain from him to the point where he didn't have the strength to be tense anymore. 

"Sleep tight, Pine Tree," the demon chuckled into his hair as Dipper slumped against him. An arm wrapped around his waist, holding his body up, and he found that he didn't have the energy to mind. _"Don't let the bedbugs bite."_

Dipper's knees buckled beneath him and he started to regret not sitting down before they did this. Just as he started to slip fully out of consciousness, he felt warm arms lift him up and toss him onto the bed.


	5. Chapter Five

Dipper Pines cared _very_ much about his research. So much so that he was willing to do practically anything in order to further his knowledge of the supernatural. 

That was, perhaps, why he was practically dangling off a tree branch, trying desperately to get a picture of the creature in front of him before it took off running again. 

It had been a long day in the woods. Grunkle Stan had probably expected him back to work hours ago, but when he saw the water kelpie so far away from the river, he couldn’t _not_ follow it-

-through bushes and brambles and now into a tree. 

He knew what the horse-like monster was the moment he spotted it. He was familiar enough with Scottish lore, after all. But what he didn’t understand was why the thing was _in the middle of the woods, what the fuck_ and not near a body of water. Still, it hadn’t taken Dipper more than a few seconds to determine that that was where the creature was probably headed as it took off quickly. Dipper had had to duck into and behind trees in order to follow the thing while still remaining hidden. 

His legs were fairly cut-up and he had found himself wishing he wore long pants rather than shorts hours ago, but it was all part of the job. He had also lost one of his favorite flannels, snagged onto a tree branch similar to the one he was now clinging to, and he couldn’t believe that the kelpie hadn’t spotted his bright red t-shirt yet. He made a mental note of _colorblind?_ as he adjusted his position in the tree, trying to get a better view. His head started to swim. 

_No, not right now,_ he begged his head, shaking himself a little bit. 

The waves of exhaustion were nothing new- well, at least, not after the week he’d had. Bill had shown up to drain his energy _twice_ since first appearing on Monday, and frankly, Dipper was already greatly regretting this deal.

Sure, Bill stuck to his word and didn’t knock him out while he was working or at school. That, at least, Dipper was grateful for. But Grunkle Stan was starting to find it a little strange that Dipper was disappearing for ten to twelve hours to sleep when the boy normally got less than half of that (Grunkle Stan also may have noticed that Dipper was wearing his glasses a lot more often, as he now found himself constantly waking up and having to practically peel his dry contacts out of his eyes). 

The only good part of the deal was that it drained Dipper so much that his mind couldn’t even produce dreams (but on the flipside, he wasn’t able to enter the mindscape, either). That meant that the nightmares didn’t occur, and Dipper actually got full nights of sleep without waking up. He always felt well-rested when he first woke up, but later on in the day he’d be hit with what were probably the aftereffects of having all of your energy forcibly ripped out of your body. 

Dipper blinked his eyes rapidly, forcing them to clear. No. Not right now. 

The kelpie finally came to a stop, and Dipper was glad, because he wasn’t sure he could keep up the pursuit for much longer. He quickly fished his camera out of his messenger bag, eyes never leaving the kelpie as it leaned down to munch at a bush. 

It was terrifying but beautiful. Much like many of the things he had seen in these woods over the years. 

He found his camera and aimed it at the creature, grinning. Finally. He lifted the camera to his face and-

“Hey, Pine Tree.” 

In just a second, the kelpie had looked up, noticed his presence, and disappeared at a lightning-fast speed. In the same moment, Dipper’s camera slipped out of his grasp in his shock and crashed to the ground, Dipper following. The only thing that stopped him from hitting the ground (like the camera) and breaking his neck was a small force field that Bill must have thrown up in the last millisecond. It cushioned Dipper’s blow for just a second before disappearing and letting him fall the last half-foot on his own. It happened so fast that Dipper’s surprised yelp never even had the time to leave his throat. 

The demon leaned up against the tree Dipper had been hanging in a minute before, looking at the boy with a curious expression and definitely _not_ looking fazed by the sudden events nor by Dipper’s furious glare. His tophat was back now, too, hovering just over his head. Dipper had to wonder if anybody in Gravity Falls would even notice. 

“What do you want, Bill?” Dipper ground out, more annoyed than anything. His camera was in several pieces and he was suddenly glad that he had just recently moved his pictures onto his computer. Still, he had lost his possibly once-in-a-lifetime chance of photographing that kelpie… 

Bill twirled a golden cane that Dipper hadn’t previously noticed him holding. It was still so weird seeing the demon in a human form. And he definitely didn’t like the implications that came with knowing that Bill _needed_ a physical form for something. 

The demon eyed him up for a moment before seeming to realize how genuinely angry Dipper was and laughing in delight. “Sorry, Pine Tree,” he drawled, sounding anything but. “Payment time.”

Dipper frowned, pushing himself back up to his feet. Even with the demon several feet away, he didn’t like being lower than him. He needed to stand his ground, literally. “This soon?” Dipper asked, a crease forming in his brow. “But just yesterday…” 

Bill shrugged. “When I need energy, I need it,” he answered, not like _that_ really cleared anything up. Dipper still didn’t know what he needed his life energy for, and he wasn’t sure he really _wanted_ to know. The demon’s voice had a hint of something dark in it when he continued, “Plus, you don’t get to decide, kid. That wasn’t in the deal. Maybe you should work on your negotiating skills.” 

Dipper had to choke back the slew of curse words and possible banishment spells he wanted to toss at the demon. _Now’s not the time,_ he reminded himself. "Well, sorry, but you can't right now. No leaving me somewhere that I could potentially die, remember?" Dipper knew that would come in handy at some point. 

Bill rolled his eyes as he strutted forward. Dipper didn't flinch; he was now pretty familiar with the demon's lack of respect for _personal space_. Bill reached out for him and Dipper was suddenly sure that he was going to find a loophole in the words and drain his energy anyway, but then the demon’s fingers clasped around his arm and Dipper felt something shift. When he blinked, he was standing in his bedroom at the Shack, and definitely _not_ in the woods.

He only had half a second to think about how cool it was that they’d just _teleported, holy shit,_ before his organs seemed to have caught up with the rest of his body and he fell to his knees, clutching his stomach. Bill seemed to realize this quickly enough and kicked Dipper’s trashcan over to him just as the boy lost the contents of his stomach. 

Bill sighed as the teen heaved. “Oh, yeah. I forgot about that.”

Dipper had to take a few deep breaths to steady his breathing, cringing at the taste in his mouth and the burning of stomach acids in his throat. After he could breathe normally again, he glared up at the demon. “You _forgot_?” 

“Yes, that’s _definitely_ the reason why I haven’t kept a human pet in a few centuries.”

Bill said it offhandedly, but the word _pet_ definitely stuck in Dipper’s mind. What did Bill mean by that? Did he mean that he had decided to never keep a human… _pet_ again, or that Dipper was the first in a while? Did he consider Dipper a pet? 

_No,_ he told himself. _He sees you as a battery._

He wanted to ask, but he was afraid that Bill would say yes. 

Dipper forced himself to stand up despite his wobbly knees and the feeling of his organs still turning in his stomach. He sat on the edge of the bed and kicked the trashcan off to the side to be dealt with later. “This isn’t going to work, Bill,” he dared to say, meeting the demon’s gaze with a steady look of his own. 

Bill’s eyes flared red, but otherwise his composure didn’t change. While his tone was calm, Dipper didn’t miss the threat when he began, “I’m not sure what part of _demonic deal_ you don’t understand, Pine Tree, but-” 

“No!” Dipper interrupted, and Bill raised an eyebrow. “I’m... I’m not backing out of the deal,” but god, how he wanted to, “I’m just… calling for an amendment.” 

Bill’s eyes flashed again, this time blue, and Dipper knew he was enjoying the prospect of another deal-related agreement. “I’m listening,” he responded, crossing his arms over his chest and shifting his weight back. Dipper didn’t know he was staring, drinking in the image of the man in front of him, until he realized that he now knew every inch of Bill’s clothing without even having to look. 

He yanked his gaze away, cheeks aflame and mentally reprimanding himself. “I just… isn’t there some way you could drain my energy, like, _not_ all at once? Like just take a little at a time? Because this really isn’t convenient, man.” 

Bill pursed his lips. “It would be more frequent.” 

Dipper blanched at the thought, but nodded nonetheless. “Alright.” 

Bill was studying him carefully, and Dipper squirmed under his gaze. “What?” he demanded, feeling more and more insecure. For the sake of having something to do, Dipper pushed past him and to his desk, where he started organizing his papers. 

He could feel Bill’s eyes on him for a few more seconds before the demon laughed, but it wasn’t as sincere as his previous ones had been. It lacked the normal demonic coldness, and in Dipper’s opinion, was almost worse. “You’re a weird kid, Pine Tree.” 

Dipper stiffened, and a slew of retorts rushed through his mind, everything from _I’m not a kid_ to _you’re one to talk_. Instead, what came out was a sour, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” He didn’t turn around. The page of notes he was holding, a sketch of a nightcrawler with scribbled writing next to it (notes he had taken when half-asleep that just said things like, _Very spooky. Do not approach_ ), crumpled slightly in his hand. 

“Don’t think too much about it, kid.” 

Bill didn’t say anything else, and when Dipper turned around, he was gone. 

\-----

That night, Dipper’s nightmares returned. 

He hadn’t entered the mindscape, so the effects of the dream hit him with a full-force terror as he forgot that he wasn’t awake. Something was chasing him, but he wasn’t coherent enough to figure out what. He just knew that it was something dangerous and there was a banshee-like scream in his ears and he was running and if he slipped once, he’d be dead. 

And that happened, of course. He tripped. It sent his body flying forward with the momentum built-up from running, but instead of falling forward onto the ground, he crashed into a warm body and strong arms wrapped around him immediately. 

“ _Finally, Pine Tree_ ,” the creature murmured against his hair, and then Dipper was pulled out of the dream as if he had been slapped awake. 

He was alone in the darkness of his room, but he didn’t really know what else he had expected. His shirt was nearly soaked through in a cold sweat, and he pulled it off and tossed it across the room, ignoring the chill that immediately set in through him. 

When he rolled over on the bed, his arm brushed against something scratchy, and he sat up. It was the dreamcatcher that Mabel had made for him. It had fallen off of where it was nailed to his headboard, and he picked it up and frowned, suddenly grateful that he hadn’t crushed it in his sleep. 

He got up long enough to hang the dreamcatcher back up, and by then, he was too awake to go back to sleep. He still laid back in bed, though, but it was just so he could play around on his phone until the sun came up. He considered texting Mabel, but it would just worry her and he’d probably get a lecture about how he needed to talk to Grunkle Stan and maybe start seeing a psychiatrist if the nightmares persisted. 

His eyes started to slip closed again around dawn, just as a warm light began to stream through the triangle-shaped window and the birds began to chirp. 

\-----

“Hey, Dipper, can you reach that box up there?” 

Dipper made a noise of recognition in return but didn’t take his eyes off of his Mythology textbook. He had a notebook open next to it and was sloppily scribbling down notes. He rested his head on one hand, his eyes drooping slightly. 

Bill hadn’t been by to drain his energy in a few days (which was even stranger when Dipper realized that he hadn’t even taken any the other day when he had shown up specifically to do so), but his nightmares plagued him like never before and it was really becoming a hindrance to his sleep. Dipper almost worried that when Bill _did_ show back up, it would just be to kill him for breaking their deal by not taking good enough care of himself. 

“Dipper?” 

The boy’s eyes shot up and his face flushed when he realized that Sidney had asked him to do something. “Shit, yeah, sorry,” he muttered, jumping out of his seat from behind the counter and going to help the girl reach the box (even _he_ had to stand on his tip-toes to reach it, meaning that Connor must have been the one to put it on the high shelf in the first place). 

He handed it to her and she slowly murmured, “Thanks,” but the slightly worried expression didn’t leave her face. 

A hand clapped him on the back and he jumped before realizing it was just Grunkle Stan. The old man gave him a weird look before nudging his shoulder in the direction of the break room and just saying, “Kid,” in a solemn tone. Dipper nodded and followed his great uncle into the back room, dread settling in his chest. 

When Stan shut the door behind him, Dipper began to worry even more. 

“Grunkle Stan, what-” 

“Dipper.” 

The boy flinched. Grunkle Stan’s expression was serious, and that scared him. It was similar to the one he had after the fire- except Grunkle Stan wouldn’t have any memory of that, because it technically didn’t happen. 

“Now, kid, I know your school work is important,” Dipper let out a sigh of relief when he realized that that was all this was about. Grunkle Stan pulled a face, continuing, “-even though education is really just a corporate scam instigated by the government to- anyways. You need to balance your time between doing homework and doing _work_. What are you always doing up in your room if you’re not finishing up assignments?” 

_Trying to find out what kind of creature is trying to kill me_ , he thought. “Research,” was all he forced out. It wasn’t a lie. Technically. 

Stan blinked at him. “Whatever. I don’t wanna know.” He shook his head, a disturbed expression crossing his face, and Dipper’s cheeks burned. 

“Wait, that’s not what I-” 

“Hush up. I don’t care. Kid, I’ll be blunt with you.” As if he was ever anything else. Grunkle Stan frowned, and just for a second, the mask ebbed away. He shifted his weight, leaning slightly against the door. “I had a- a _friend_ once, one who was a lot like you. Thought he could solve all of the mysteries of this town. A damn good writer, too, also like you. And things… things didn’t end well for him.” 

Dipper frowned, his eyebrows knitting together. Stan had never mentioned anything like that before, but then again, he had also spent most of the twins’ first summer in Gravity Falls pretending to be ignorant about all of the things that went on in the town. “Grunkle Stan, why-”

“I’m done talking about it.” Dipper knew there was no use arguing about it. If Stan didn’t want to say anything more on the subject, then he wouldn’t. “Just be careful, alright? I don’t-” he broke off, but Dipper knew exactly what he was thinking. _I don’t want to lose you, too._ “Anyways. Last time I talked to your sister, she said you haven’t been sleeping, and I can tell. You look like a zombie.” He paused. “But I’m pretty sure a perfect three-part harmony wouldn’t shatter your skull.” 

Dipper mentally swore, cursing Mabel. He hadn’t told her that the nightmares had resumed, but of course she knew. She knew him better than anybody, and she had dealt with a sleep-deprived version of himself many a time, so it made sense that she would recognize all of the clues. “I’m fine, Grunkle Stan,” he lied, forcing a smile. 

Stan didn’t look convinced. “Uh huh. Sure, kid. Just get some rest, alright? Before I put _you_ in the museum as the scariest thing those tourists will ever see.” 

\-----

When he confronted Mabel about it on the phone later that night, she played coy and acted as if she had no idea what he was talking about. After a few tries to bring it up, he eventually just gave up and let her chatter aimlessly about how her roommate got shitfaced drunk and climbed on the roof of her dorm. 

He was doodling absently in his Mythology notes with one hand while holding the phone in the other, and when he looked down, he realized that he had been drawing triangles over and over again. He tuned Mabel out as he angrily scribbled over them, writing, _fuck bill_ in small letters under a line of shorthand about griffins. He then realized the double meaning that could be read in that and crossed out _bill_ and wrote _you_. Much better.

As he listened to his sister ramble on about her college adventures, he realized just how angry he was. At Bill, for continuously showing up and then not showing up at all and making Dipper more confused than anything else. At the mysterious force in his dreams that kept him from sleeping (and, not to mention, tried to destroy all of his research and his memories). And at _himself_ for not knowing how to stop all of this. 

Soon enough, Mabel was yawning and Dipper was urging her to go to bed. She ended the call with a vague threat about how she’d mail him a box full of glitter if _he_ didn’t go to bed and something about how he’d never know what it was until he had opened it and it was too late and there was glitter all over everything he loved. 

He took the threat seriously enough that he soon enough prepared for bed. Getting to sleep was never the hard part; staying asleep was. 

Just as he began to drift out of consciousness, he focused his thoughts on entering the mindscape, and when he blinked awake again, he was in the woods.

He didn’t head to the manor; instead, he waved a hand and pushed the treeline back further, making a clearing. Then, he conjured up a pile of boulders and went to work trying to levitate them using only magic. 

Magic made him tired pretty quickly, and soon enough, he was sweating. He knew he was in the mindscape (the black-and-white trees and gray sky made it pretty obvious), but it felt so real. 

When the nightmare kicked in, he was ready. 

At first it was just eyes hiding in the darkness provided by the trees, and he pretended not to see them. He went on with his magic practice, levitating multiple boulders at a time and moving them in the air. Progressively, more and more eyes appeared, and while it chilled Dipper’s blood a bit, he was still mad and just not ready to take this lying down any more. 

Finally, the creature stepped from the shadows: a large, boar-like monster, covered with eyes everywhere that Dipper could see. The thing had to be a good few feet taller than him, but he stood his ground- though the rocks did fall back to the ground as soon as his concentration slipped. He took a deep breath and fixed a cool stare on the creature, even though every survival instinct within him was screaming for him to flee. 

They had a stare-down, but seeing as the creature had about a hundred times as many eyes as Dipper did, it was probably going to win. 

“Will you not run, boy?” The creature had no visible mouth, but Dipper was now all-too-familiar with mouthless creatures speaking. Its voice was garbled, as if it was speaking through water, and it was more of a mix of many voices than it was a singular one. Dipper had heard it a few times in his nightmares. It was the same voice that had spoken to him in Bill’s words, but certainly not Bill’s voice, a few nights before. 

“No,” Dipper dared to say. He wondered if the creature could read how intimidated he was. 

“Are you ready to fight back, then?” There was a hint of amusement in the rumbly voice, and the boar took another step forward. Dipper shivered. 

The boy took a steady breath. “I’ve been ready,” he called, but it sounded forced even to him. 

The boar laughed, and Dipper thought it was going to say something else, but then it was charging at him and he was hastily diving out of the way. He landed in a crouch that he definitely wouldn’t have been able to manage outside the mindscape. He barely had time to catch his breath before the boar had turned and was charging again, and he reacted on instinct, throwing his hands up and sending the stones flying at the creature. 

He didn’t really anticipate it working, as his magic tonight had been shaky at best, but they slammed into the boar’s face (or whatever constituted as a face), taking out a few of its eyes. It roared in anger, and Dipper used its temporary stillness to leap back to his feet and dart to the other side of the clearing. 

In the time it took the monster to turn again and begin to charge once more, Dipper had concentrated enough to feel electricity tingling in his palms, and he sent a wave of it flying towards the creature. The magic slammed into it and it made a noise like something straight out of Hell itself, forcing Dipper to bring his hands up to cover his ears, to no avail. The boar didn’t stop its pursuit, though, and Dipper just barely had time to throw up a forcefield that he half-expected not to work. 

Amazingly, it did, and the boar stopped just short of electrocuting itself. It huffed out through a large snout, and Dipper expected more rage, but instead, it just made another noise that was _almost_ a laugh.

“Your magic is getting better,” it said, and now the voice was different. It sounded older, ancient, and it hit Dipper with a whole truck-full of worries as he began to wonder even more what he was dealing with. Dipper tried not to read too much into the words. If the creature knew that his magic was getting better, then how long had it been watching him for? Months, or years? “Good. I can use that.” 

Dipper flinched. He backed up, even though he was (theoretically) safe behind the forcefield, until his back hit a tree. “What are you planning?” he demanded, his voice low. This conversation felt like deja vu. 

The boar started to evaporate into particles, but its voice still echoed into the clearing. “You have potential that you’ll never understand, Dipper Pines. You will be useful.” 

As the creature disappeared, the forcefield shattered and the mindscape crumpled around him. He cried out in shock, trying to will the familiar landscape back, but then he was falling into the void. 

He forced himself to wake up, and he was shaking so hard that he couldn’t believe he hadn’t fallen off the bed. Luckily, it was already early morning, and for once, he seemed to have gotten a full night of sleep. He didn’t get out of bed, though, instead laying back down and trying to force his breathing to steady. 

He was in way over his head.


	6. Chapter Six

When Bill appeared next, it was several days later and Dipper was at his desk, pouring over his Calculus homework. 

Dipper felt the shift of magic in the room but didn’t realize what it was until Bill was leaning over his shoulder and saying, “Number three is wrong.” 

He flinched but didn’t jump. While it had been nearly a week since he had last seen the demon, he was now at least somewhat accustomed to his less-than-conventional appearances. 

“No it’s not,” he muttered without bothering to check. It probably was. He had no idea what he was doing. 

The demon huffed in response, and Dipper heard the sound of his bed creaking as Bill sat down on it. His pencil stilled and he had to fight not to look over, if only just to glare at the demon. 

After a moment of silence, Dipper continued working. “Where have you been, anyways?” he asked, scribbling down the next problem. He was asking less out of interest and more out of annoyance at the demon’s unpredictable schedule. 

The bed creaked again, and Dipper imagined that Bill was lounging back now. He gritted his teeth. “Oh, you know. Here and there. This dimension and the next. Plaguing half the town with nightmares. The usual.” 

_Half the town, but not me,_ Dipper thought. He had decided long ago that Bill was definitely _not_ the cause of the strange dreams. Bill would have had no reason to help him out with the deal if he was the one who locked up Dipper’s memories in the first place (though that definitely seemed like something in Bill’s realm of possibilities, as it _would_ have forced Dipper into a position where he was desperate enough to make a deal). He also wouldn’t want to be depriving Dipper of sleep when he still clearly needed the boy’s energy. 

Plus, Bill wouldn’t be trying to hide his identity. If he were the one tormenting Dipper, he’d want Dipper to know. 

“Are you here to drain my energy?” he asked flatly. He frowned at the next problem in his textbook and decided to skip it and come back to it later.

"Sort of," Bill hummed in response. Dipper's eyes flicked over to him at that, only to find that he wasn't laying on his back as the teen had expected, but rather was knelt on his knees and carefully turning over Dipper's dreamcatcher in his hands. 

The boy bristled, dropping his pencil. "Hey, man, don't touch that, it's-" 

"Aw, Pine Tree, trying to ward off a scary dream demon?" Bill taunted, shooting a wicked, fang-filled grin his way. "Not sure if you've realized, but it doesn't seem to be helping much." 

Dipper scowled, sitting back in his desk chair. "Mabel made it for me. So don't touch it." 

The demon raised an eyebrow at him but otherwise dropped the dreamcatcher, and it fell back against the headboard with a soft _thud_. Bill pulled one leg up against his chest (resting his _shoe_ on Dipper's _bed_ , ugh) and let the other dangle over the edge of the bed frame. He pushed static-y blonde fringe out of his face with one hand and adjusted his bowtie with the other, and just for a moment, he looked oddly domestic and Dipper actually _didn't_ find it too weird that there was a demon in his room. 

And then Dipper blinked and Bill was no longer on his bed. For a split second, he thought he had left, but then the demon was on his opposite side and brushing up against Dipper’s shoulder. 

Dipper jumped. Bill was nearly pressed flush against his back, and Dipper was suddenly hyper aware of the warmth seeping in through the back of his flannel. "Hey, what the f-" 

"Number six is wrong, too," Bill mused, peering over his shoulder and at the math textbook. "And your work isn't even close to being right on this one," he added with a scoff, tapping a problem in the middle of the page with a gloved finger. 

Dipper slammed his textbook shut with his notebook still trapped inside, surprising the demon who just barely had time to yank his hand back. Dipper turned and pushed himself back in the chair, putting some much-needed space between him and Bill. 

"What do you mean by 'sort of,' anyway?" Dipper spat, returning to his original question. 

Bill leaned up against one of Dipper's bookcases, turning with lightning-fast reflexes to catch a bird skull that he had almost knocked off with an elbow. "I'm absorbing your energy just by being around you, Sapling," he drawled, then eyed up Dipper's disheveled appearance. "Not that you even have much to give right now," he added with a hint of a bite. 

Dipper ran a hand through his hair, pushing it out of his face. His hand caught on a tangle and he frowned. He needed to cut it. "I haven't really been sleeping," he admitted, a bit wary of how Bill was going to react. 

Bill's face showed no reaction, and Dipper realized that he was oddly docile today. He had been here for several minutes already and the walls weren't oozing blood and the lights weren't flashing. "I know. I see everything, Pine Tree. I'm always watching." 

"I don't see you offering to help," Dipper snapped. Not that he expected the demon to. Bill was probably enjoying seeing him with constant dizziness and and migraines. 

Maybe it made him more pliable. He hadn’t attempted to banish the demon yet, after all. 

"Not my problem." Bill shrugged. "But if you want me to knock you out, that's always an opt-" 

"No thanks." Dipper stood up quickly and grabbed his messenger bag from where it was slung over a bed post. He snagged a book from the top of his dresser and slid it inside, then dug a knife from out from underneath the false bottom of his top dresser drawer. He pulled it out of the sheath for just a second, running his thumb over the runes carved into the blade, before sliding it back in and tucking it in the bag. 

“Mm, what are we hunting today, Pine Tree?” Was that just Dipper, or did Bill suddenly seem a lot more chipper at the thought of bloodshed? 

“Nothing, hopefully,” Dipper shot back, his hand pausing on the door handle. “There was a mauling on the other side of town a few days ago, and the coroner reports show the bites look kind of like crocotta bites. Well, the police reports listed it as a wild dog. But the wounds are way too deep.”

Bill laughed. “And how would _you_ get ahold of police reports?” the demon inquired, a smirk in his voice. Oh, yeah. Shit. Dipper had forgotten that it wasn’t exactly _legal_ to hack into the county’s online records. 

“Uh… public record?” Dipper tried, glancing back at the man. Bill looked amused. 

“Oh, Pine Tree. Breaking the law. Just what I like to see.” He grinned. 

Dipper rolled his eyes and proceeded out the door. “Anyways, I hope to just be able to scare it off.”

In reality, he didn’t know much about crocottas other than what lore he could find online. They weren’t listed in the Journal, so maybe they weren’t common in Gravity Falls. He was desperately hoping that there was just one and that some loud noises or maybe a fire could scare it away, but he really had no idea what to expect. That’s why he was taking the knife. 

Bill followed him, and when Dipper made it to the stairs, he hesitated again and the demon almost crashed right into him (which wouldn’t have ended well, since Dipper was literally _right_ in front of the _stairs_ ). “What are you doing?” he asked sharply, turning to face Bill again. 

“I’m coming with you,” Bill said, slowly, as if Dipper was dumb. "Like I said: I'm sapping your energy just by being around you." 

Dipper wanted to argue, but he just didn't see the point. "Whatever," he muttered, starting down the stairs. "Just don't let Grunkle Stan see you." 

As much as Dipper hated to admit it, Bill was alright as company. They started their trek into the woods silently, Bill trailing behind him semi-awkwardly. Dipper realized that he probably wasn't used to walking so much, especially off-road and through brambles. More than once, he heard the demon stumble over something and mumble a swear in an unfamiliar language. 

After a while, Bill starting pointing out strange markings on trees and odd-colored plants, rambling on about magical properties and telling stories of the weird things that he had seen in Gravity Falls over the years. At first Dipper tried to tune him out, sure he was just spewing nonsense like always, but after a comment about a hidden cave underneath the county jail, he actively perked up. 

By the time they made it out to the cliffs, they were having a heated discussion about hodags and Dipper was genuinely laughing. Bill was being strangely bearable and Dipper wasn’t exactly sure that was a good thing. 

The sound of their voices carried in the emptiness of the escarpments, and Dipper didn’t realize their mistake until they had stumbled upon the crocottas. As they came around a bend, they walked right in front of a mother and her cubs gnawing at a very bloody, _very_ dead deer. Other adult crocottas slinked out from a den. They had been alerted of their presence before they even reached the creatures, and by then, it was too late. 

Their conversation cut off immediately. Dipper took one glance at the things and Bill said, “Oh, yeah. Crocottas travel in packs,” matter-of-factly before they were running back down the cliffs with a herd of angry hyena-like monsters chasing after them. 

Suddenly, Bill seemed to be more than comfortable on his feet and was several steps ahead of Dipper. Dipper’s eyes landed on the demon’s retreating form just as a crocotta howled and tried to nip at the back of his leg. “Shit shit shit,” he swore, jumping over a rock. “You couldn’t have mentioned that earlier?” he cried to the demon. He should have known, really. It just hadn’t crossed his mind in his haste to leave the Shack. 

“You didn’t ask,” Bill called back, sounding slightly winded. They made it to the tree line, but the creatures were still hot in pursuit. 

Dipper tried to shout a short incantation, anything. If only he could get ‘claudicatis’ to leave his lips. Instead, he found himself distracted, his eyes never leaving Bill’s backside and ears tuned in as Bill mumbled something in Latin through short breaths. 

Dipper could feel magic sparking on his fingertips, hands encased in a faint blue glow, and he sent a wave of electricity back towards the creatures without turning back to see. There were a few yelps of pain and suddenly there were less footsteps hitting the ground behind them, but one of the crocottas was still one step away from eating Dipper alive. 

Dipper stumbled as his foot snagged on a fallen tree limb, and it was all the monster needed to pounce. It hit his back and brought him down immediately with the impact. Dipper was glad that he had quick enough reflexes to roll onto his back before the creature was once again on top of him, and he threw an arm up to shield himself. The creature’s fangs dug into his forearm immediately and Dipper cried out in agony, but knew that the creature had originally been going for his throat and that it could have ended much worse.

As he struggled to shove the snarling thing off of him, fangs glistening and getting much too close to his face for comfort, he was all-too-aware that his bag had landed several steps away at the feet of Bill, who had long since stopped running. “Little help here?” Dipper choked out through his teeth as he brought a leg up to try and kick the monster off of him. It was just out of his reach. 

“Ask nicely, Pine Tree,” Bill teased in response, sounding far too calm considering that Dipper was seriously about to _die_. Dipper couldn’t see the demon’s face, but he was sure that he was grinning and enjoying this way too much. 

This wasn’t really any time to argue, so Dipper just gritted out, “ _Please_ ,” as he elbowed the crocotta below the jaw. It snarled in response and ripped back into the flesh of his arm. 

In one quick second, Bill had ripped the dagger out of Dipper’s bag and out of its sheath and tossed it dangerously towards him. Dipper miraculously caught the blade in the hand that wasn’t currently fighting off the crocotta and dug it into the side of the creature’s neck. 

It went much sloppier than Dipper had anticipated. The thing just yowled and fought him harder, but it froze in surprise for long enough to swing his leg up and use the momentum to roll the creature off of him. The crocotta lunged at him as soon as he was back on his knees, and he switched the blade into his dominant hand despite the throbbing in his arm. He hit the monster with a left hook that would have made Grunkle Stan proud (though the old man would absolutely _not_ ever hear about this), and that distracted it long enough for him to drive the knife back into its neck. 

He started to feel bad as he overpowered it and it continued fighting back, thrashing against him with all its might, but soon enough its whimpers died down and he pulled the knife out, breathing heavily. He dropped fully down to his knees from his crouched position and allowed the knife to slip out of his hand as he cupped his arm. Bits of flannel and skin were hanging off, and he was losing blood a lot faster than he realized. 

He pulled the flannel off of his shoulders (suddenly grateful that he had a t-shirt on underneath it), cringing as it scraped over the marred flesh. His hands shook as he tried and failed to tear the shirt into strips. After a moment, he felt Bill kneel down next to him and tug the cloth out of his hands somewhat roughly. 

Dipper watched out of the corner of his eye as Bill pulled his gloves off with his teeth and then ripped off one sleeve of the flannel. Dipper expected him to go straight for the wound to apply pressure and braced himself, but instead, he quickly wrapped the strip tightly around Dipper’s upper arm. 

“Wh-what are you doing?” Dipper panted. He was starting to get over the rush of adrenaline and the pain was kicking in much harder. 

“Never seen a tourniquet before, Pine Tree?” Bill gritted, sounding slightly amused even through what was obvious annoyance. 

“Oh,” Dipper breathed, cringing as Bill procured a stick from somewhere and used it as a torsion device, sticking it through the loop and twisting it. Dipper had a slight knowledge of tourniquets from a brief first aid course taught in his freshman health class, but he didn’t remember much of the science behind it. He trusted that it would stop the bleeding, though. 

Wait. He _trusted_ something that _Bill_ was doing? 

How did Bill even know how to secure a tourniquet?

It hurt even worse as Bill worked, and so Dipper tried to focus his attention on something else. His eyes fell on Bill's tophat, floating a good inch above his blonde hair, following Bill when he moved. His head spun and he found himself wondering exactly how that worked. It was some sort of magical suspension, of course, but had Bill planned it like that when he made the body? How had Bill even made the body?

"Hey, kid." Bill paused, snapping in Dipper's face. Dipper blinked at him, not realizing that his eyes had unfocused. "Don't pass out, alright?" 

"Why," Dipper panted, cringing as another wave of pain rushed through him, "do you care?"

"Because," Bill yanked the cloth tighter, turning the torsion device once more, "Then _I'll_ have to carry you back to the Shack and when Stanford catches me carrying his precious nephew, covered in blood, he'll be performing an exorcism before I can even set you down. He'd put up sanctions around the house, too; ones that will actually work. And that just wouldn't be convenient." 

Fingernails dug into his arm next to where it was tied. “You couldn’t have just magically healed me, or something?” Dipper ground out, wincing as Bill finished up the tourniquet and moved to apply pressure on the wound. He was sitting back on his heels now, alternating between tugging at his hair and biting his fist to take his mind away from the pain, and he was all-too-aware of how close Bill was. 

“A mortal body couldn’t handle the magic involved in healing a magical wound. You might not be feeling that crocotta venom yet, but boy, you will!" He paused for a moment, laughing slightly maniacally. "It’d take some pretty dark magic to fix that. If you threw up after teleporting a short distance, you’d probably internally combust if I healed you.” 

Dipper stilled, images of Mabel covered in blood and grasping for him with a weak hand flashing through his head. Bill was right; magic healing was dangerous. 

The demon finished wrapping the wound and sat back, pulling on his gloves right over his bloodstained fingers. Dipper stared, and Bill gave him an odd look. “What?” he snapped. 

Dipper shook his head. “Thanks,” he muttered softly, somewhat reluctantly. He used his good arm to push himself up to his feet, grabbing the knife and cleaning it off with the remaining scraps of his ruined shirt before sheathing it and sticking it back into his messenger bag. 

Bill stood up as well and stared at him for a long moment. “You’ll owe me down the line,” he muttered, but there wasn’t feeling in it. He had lost the hint of amusement that had been so prevalent a minute before. 

Dipper rolled his eyes. “You know, you could have helped before and prevented this altogether.” 

Bill frowned, looking somewhat affronted. “I tossed you the knife!” he defended. Dipper just sighed. 

As they started the trek back to the Shack in silence, Dipper found himself realizing just how grateful he had been that Bill had been there, and he couldn’t help the creeping feeling of nerves rising in his chest. 

\----- 

Sure enough, Dipper soon felt the effects of the crocotta venom. It ravaged through him all that night, and he found himself blaring loud music from a mix CD that Mabel had sent him to drown out his choked cries. He had cleaned out the wound several times that day, realizing that if Bill hadn’t tied the tourniquet, there was a good chance that he might have bled out before he made it back to the Shack. He had a basic first aid kit in his bag, but he wouldn’t have known how to stop bleeding on such a severe wound. 

His flesh was marred, and it looked exactly like what had happened: as if a creature with two-inch fangs had ripped into him. After a few hours, just as the venom started to work, it turned a sickly yellowish and Dipper started to fear that he’d end up having to have the arm amputated. 

It went away soon enough, though, and after one night of agony, the venom had worked his way through his system long enough for his white blood cells to attack it and be rid of it. 

After that, Bill started hanging around more. He still appeared at unceremonious times, like when Dipper was standing on a ladder to change a lightbulb in the giftshop and the surprise had nearly caused him to fall, but he was getting more and more predictable. 

Dipper soon became used to the demon providing some raw conversation that he had never been able to talk to about anybody else. He had always ranted and raved to Mabel about the supernatural, of course, but Bill had universal knowledge and was therefore able to offer a lot more in terms of replies. In just a few days, Dipper had filled half a notebook with random tidbits that Bill had told him about Gravity Falls and its inhabitants. 

He was getting used to having the demon around, and that scared him more than anything else. 

\-----

The first of September quickly came and went, and it had officially been over a month since he had seen his twin. Thanks to modern technology, though, they were able to easily stay in touch. They tried to talk over the phone or on Skype video chat at least every other night, and he was never lacking in texts and Snapchats from her (though he didn’t really understand the point of the latter; if you wanted somebody to see a picture, why would you send it for just a few seconds when you could just text it to them so that it _wouldn’t_ go away?). 

He was glancing at one such Snapchat from his twin one morning after getting out of class. It was a Thursday, and he was half-asleep after ninety minutes of Calculus. It had rained the night before, and he splashed through puddles on the sidewalk on his way to his truck, textbooks tucked under one arm. 

Just then, a large pickup truck drove by, throwing a wave of rainwater towards him. He jumped as he was splashed, swearing loudly and flipping off the truck just as he heard a girl giggling from the passenger seat. He ducked his head down and walked faster, mumbling angrily under his breath. 

Of course, walking with one’s head down on a crowded college campus was never a good idea, and Dipper quickly ended up running into somebody full-force, knocking his head against theirs, and dropping his books. 

“Shit, shit man, I’m so sorry,” he muttered, immediately dropping down to pick up his books that had landed dangerously close to a puddle. He caught a glimpse of shiny black shoes for just a second before the guy he had bumped into was kneeling too, picking up his books before he could. 

“Don’t worry about it,” the man said as they both stood up and he handed Dipper’s books back. His voice was low and smooth, and the kind smile on his face was clear in it. He had black hair nearly as long as Dipper’s and eyes that were almost purple. He had to be wearing colored contacts, or something. 

“I’m a klutz,” Dipper mumbled, trying to force a smile and realizing just how fake he sounded. 

The man didn’t seem to mind, though, and Dipper counted himself lucky that he had run into somebody so laid back and not one of the many sleep-deprived, over caffeinated college students. He wondered if this guy went to school here, and then realized how stupid that thought was, as why would he be on the campus if he didn’t? He looked to be about Dipper’s age, maybe a little older, in a purple hoodie over tight black jeans. 

Then, surprise spread across the man’s face, and he exclaimed, “Oh! You’re Dipper Pines, aren’t you?” 

Dipper stiffened immediately. Despite the kindness in the man’s words and the ever-present smile, Dipper couldn’t help but feel on-edge. Years of living in Gravity Falls would turn a person into a paranoid mess. “I… Yeah, I am. How did you-” 

“Oh, I live in Gravity Falls too,” the man chuckled, and the smile was kind of starting to unnerve Dipper. “I’ve been to the Mystery Shack a few times, and plus, I’ve seen your name in the paper quite a lot.” 

“Oh,” Dipper laughed, his face reddening as he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. That made sense, then. When he was constantly working with the police and taking on jobs to hunt down monsters, people in town got to learn his name. He had never seen the man around town before, though, but that wasn’t a surprise. Dipper tended to tune out the world around him more often than not. 

He was about to say something else, but the man cut him off with a bright grin and a, “Well, I’d better get going! See you around!” before he was striding past Dipper with quick, graceful steps. 

_That was… weird,_ Dipper thought, still standing in the same spot and frowning to himself. He shrugged. It certainly wasn’t the weirdest thing he’d seen recently, and probably wouldn’t even be the weirdest thing he saw that day. 

He had only taken one step before he realized that he had never gotten the man’s name in return. He turned around, calling, “Hey-” 

The man was gone.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this was posted later than usual today! I just barely got it done in time (which is why there may be errors, so if there are, I apologize in advance). I was at a convention the entire weekend and didn't have much time to write, so I sort of just rushed to get it written today. 
> 
> It ended up much longer than it should have been.

Dipper was awoken by the sound of Grunkle Stan yelling his name up the stairs. He vaguely acknowledged the shout with a noise of his own before rolling over and bringing the pillow closer to his face. 

Then he realized that it was _Stan_ and that if Stan was yelling, he'd better high-tail his ass downstairs. 

He jumped out of bed, hurrying down the stairs with a call of, "Coming!" He ran a hand through his hair to smooth it down, but he knew it was probably a hopeless cause without a brush.

He realized that he was still in just a t-shirt and boxers first when he saw that the scarred flesh of his arm was on display and second when he walked into the kitchen and right into Wendy. 

Wait, _Wendy_? 

"Woah, dude," she laughed, jumping back. The redhead eyed him up with a grin as he stumbled a few steps backwards, still half-asleep and definitely blushing. 

"I-" Holy shit, Dipper's cheeks were _burning_. He hadn't seen Wendy since early on in the summer, and even then, it had only been for a few brief visits as she was very busy preparing for her senior year of college. "Wh-what are you doing here?"

"Go get dressed, kid," Grunkle Stan sighed from the kitchen. He wasn't really one to talk, as he often walked around the house in just underclothes and was right now from his position at the kitchen table, drinking coffee and reading the newspaper, but Dipper nodded and started back up the stairs nonetheless. 

He tried not to think of how embarrassed he was as he stepped into his jeans and pulled on a different t-shirt (one that Mabel had bought for him sometime during their senior year that had the NASA logo and text that said, 'I need my space'). He turned his arm over and ran his fingers lightly over the scar tissue, then grabbed a hoodie. He put in his contacts, tried to smooth his hair down, and took a deep breath. 

By the time he made it back downstairs, Wendy had joined Stan at the kitchen table and they were bickering, Wendy with a smirk and Stan with a scowl. Despite the front, Dipper knew that his great uncle cared deeply for Wendy and considered her a part of their family. They all did. 

Sure, Dipper had had a thing for Wendy during his first summer in Gravity Falls. But it was just a common twelve-year-old crush, and when he had recognized that a few years down the road, he had been humiliated. It had felt so real at the time. 

Luckily, Wendy never held it over him, and they had grown to become very close friends over the years. Now that she was back at college again, though, he'd admit that they didn't talk as much as he'd like. 

The conversation died as he walked into the kitchen, and Dipper took one glance at their solemn expressions and headed straight for the coffee maker. He had had nightmares early on in the night, and had spent most of it tossing and turning in his bed, unable to get images of monsters with black eyes and dripping fangs out of his head. He had just barely gotten back to sleep when Grunkle Stan woke him up. He was plenty awake now, but the buzzing in the back of his head told him that he’d probably crash in a few hours.

He poured his coffee into Mabel's customized mug, light purple with her name spelled out in glitter glue, and sat down with his caffeine fix. The two others at the table stared at him, but Stan turned his attention back to his paper when Dipper started to speak. 

"So, I guess this isn't just a friendly reunion?" he joked. Wendy didn't smile; she just looked tired, and Dipper wasn't used to seeing the normally-relaxed girl like that. 

Wendy shook her head, leaning forward on her elbows against the table. Dipper didn't miss the dark circles under her eyes, the frizziness of her red hair. She had ditched her normal flannel for an oversized t-shirt. It had taken him a moment to realize it, but she really didn't look good.

"So," she started. "You know that my family is Irish." 

Dipper blinked. Whatever he had expected her to say, it wasn't that. "Uh," he said. "Yeah?" What did that have to do with anything? 

Wendy took a deep breath. “Are you familiar with sluagh?” 

\-----

As they drove Dipper’s truck out to Wendy’s house, she told him about the monsters currently plaguing her family and the reason why she had had to come home from school.

Dipper was familiar with sluagh, of course. They were Irish spirits, normally considered to be people who died without letting go of their sins and therefore remained on this plane of existence to cause others to suffer. They would go after people who were sick or dying and take their lives far before their time should have been up. 

“So, is someone in your family-?”

“My oldest brother,” Wendy answered. Out of the corner of his eye, Dipper could see her staring worriedly out the window. If her family was being tormented by sluagh, then Dipper could see why she looked stressed. They were ruthless. “He’s been sick a lot lately. Pneumonia. My dad thinks that’s what’s drawing them in.” She messed with her hands. “Not that he likes to talk about it much,” she admitted. 

Dipper nodded, understanding that completely. This wasn’t the first time that sluagh had gone after Wendy’s family, but he wasn’t sure if she knew about the previous times. The only way Dipper knew about them was through the Journal; the pages written on sluagh included a line of scribbled writing that just said, _‘These demon-like entities have been targeting the Corduroy family for generations, and that likely will never stop.’_ Dipper decided not to mention that to the girl. 

"Is he...?" 

"It's not his time," Wendy said, sounding certain. "It's not. He's going to get over this." 

Dipper nodded. Wendy didn't sound like she was in denial; she was sure. And she was probably right, too. Sluagh were merciless. They didn't care if the person was supposed to die or not. They would take them regardless, kicking and screaming. 

They pulled up in front of the Corduroy family’s cabin just as a window shattered with no perpetrator in sight. Dipper slammed on the brakes and Wendy threw her door open and jumped out before he had even stopped all the way. Dipper threw the truck into park and fumbled to get his seatbelt off as he hurried out after her. 

He was just a few steps behind the girl, but but the time he made it through the door that she left hanging open, she and Manly Dan were already yelling at each other. It actually stopped Dipper in his tracks, watching in amazement as Wendy stood her ground and didn’t flinch as her father screamed in her face. 

“Dipper’s going to help,” Wendy insisted. Manly Dan seemed to realize that he was standing there, then, and deflated a bit. The angry expression on his face didn’t leave (though Dipper wasn’t sure it ever did). 

Dipper sure hoped he could help. He had limited knowledge of sluagh, but the Journal didn’t really make him confident about his odds. 

There was a scream from somewhere further in the house and both Wendy and father were running towards it immediately. Dipper followed, already tugging the Journal out of his bag and feeling his blood chill, expecting the worst. 

Sometimes, when a person expects the worst, they’re ready for what’s actually waiting. The thing they were afraid to see is actually never as bad as what they thought it could have been. 

This was not one of those times. 

They threw the door open to find Wendy’s brother ( _Josh? Jacob?_ Dipper couldn’t remember) lying in a bed, convulsing and screaming, as a hoard of bird-like creatures swarmed around him and screeched. They flew around the room rapidly, and when one whipped by Dipper’s face, he jumped and noted that it was translucent, like a spirit. 

Manly Dan surged forward immediately, swiping his arms back in forth over the man’s body and roaring in anger. His hands went right through the creatures and that seemed to make him more angry, as he slammed one fist into the wall above the bed and broke into the plaster. 

“Dipper!” Wendy shouted over the noise, looking panicked and swatting uselessly at one of the sluagh that had caught itself in her hair. “What do we do?” 

“Uh,” Dipper’s hands flipped through the Journal’s pages rapidly, and he was suddenly relieved that he knew the order of its pages thoroughly enough that it wasn’t hard to find the pages written on the sluagh. He read something written in the top corner of a page and looked quickly up the the girl, calling, “Which way is north?” 

Wendy’s eyes widened and she shook her head, indicating that she didn’t know, and Dipper’s heart lurched. His breathing caught until Manly Dan ripped his hand out of the wall and pointed to the one behind Dipper. 

Dipper glanced behind himself for clarity before swearing under his breath. If that wall was north, then the wall with the windows was west. 

“You have to get him out of here,” Dipper muttered, immediately swinging his bag up into his arms to rifle through it and pull out another book. “Out of the room, not out of the house,” he added hastily. He flicked his eyes up towards them for a second to see that Manly Dan was once again trying to fight the creatures off while Wendy was looking confused, so he elaborated, “They come in through the west. You’re supposed to barricade west windows when somebody is sick to prevent them from slipping in.” 

Now Wendy was the one to swear loudly, running a hand through her hair and sending a pained look towards her brother. At least she seemed to realize that there wasn’t much they could do to creatures that they couldn’t touch. 

“I’m going to need you two to leave the room,” Dipper said calmly as he returned his eyes to his book. He didn’t look up, even as he felt Manly Dan’s glare on him. 

“Boy, if you think that you can tell me what to-” 

“We’ll go,” Wendy interrupted, tugging her father past Dipper and out of the room even as he protested loudly. Dipper set his books down on the floor and took another step towards the bed. The creatures sensed the threat and began flying at him, swarming him like they were the sickly boy on the bed. 

Wendy’s brother, whose name Dipper was absolutely _sure_ started with a J, let out another scream as some of the sluagh dived towards his chest. His back was arched, and though his eyes were closed, his face looked pained and covered in cold sweat. 

Dipper threw his hands out and felt the magic crackling in his fingertips. If there was any time that he needed it to course through him, it was now. His voice was loud and confident above the noise as he shouted, “ _Fugite, monstrum!_ ” 

Everything seemed to freeze for a moment. The sluagh stopped flying and instead all faced Dipper. A thousand humanoid faces on the translucent bodies of birds, and Dipper suddenly knew that he wouldn’t be sleeping tonight with this image stuck in his head. 

Then, everything resumed, and their screeching intensified. It was loud enough to bring a ringing to Dipper’s ears and he swore, but they still quickly fled the room, flying back out the still-closed windows. They didn’t disappear out of sight, however, and instead hung right outside the room. Several flew forward and knocked into the windows like actual birds, but didn’t break through. That spell would only hold for a minute, though. 

Dipper was relieved, feeling like he could breathe again, but he didn’t pause to celebrate. Instead, he walked around the bed and right to the windows. He drew a line around the perimeter with his magic, a crackling blue mark being left where his fingers traced. When he connected the end of the line to the starting point, the whole barrier flashed before fading into a solid, glowing line. 

Dipper murmured, “ _Tueri hoc domus,_ ” and the entire window became engulfed in a similar blue glow. 

He turned around only to find Wendy and Manly Dan staring at him from the door, Wendy looking impressed and Manly Dan gaping. He ignored their stares and looked down at the man in the bed. 

He had finally laid back down again and his eyes were closed, but he was shivering in his sleep. His skin was even more pale than their family's normally was, and his long red hair clung to his forehead. It made Dipper's chest hurt to look at him like this; while he had never really talked to the man, he had always seen him working with his dad, looking big and buff and strong. Here, he looked the opposite.

Dipper exited the room, brushing past Wendy and Manly Dan and murmuring, "Take him out to the living room." 

He made haste in entering the other rooms on the west side of the house and securing the windows. By the time he had the last one done, he was panting a bit and a bead of sweat had formed at his brow. The protections were held in place by his own magic, and would continue to drain him until either the sluagh broke in or he passed out. 

Dipper was suddenly grateful that Bill wasn't hanging around to drain his energy. He didn't have any extra to give right now.

When Dipper returned to the front room, Wendy's older brother had been laid down on the couch underneath a pile of blankets. Wendy's two younger brothers had also now emerged from wherever they had been, and Dipper could tell they were scared even through their steely expressions. They four conscious Corduroys were looking at him expectantly. 

"The barrier won't hold them long. Maybe an hour at most." If it was any longer than that, Dipper would surely be knocked out. He had to work fast. He ducked into the bedroom again to pick up his books from the floor and then returned to the front room, plopping them onto a coffee table and dropping to the floor to leaf through them. 

"What do you want us to do?" Wendy asked. She sounded a lot more like her calm, confident self when there weren't demons flying around. 

Dipper glanced up at them, steeling himself. They wouldn't like this. "I'm going to need you guys to leave. But he," Dipper nodded at the man on the couch, "needs to stay." 

"Boy, this is _my_ house!" Manly Dan roared, and Dipper forced himself to keep his eyes on the book and not jump at the loud voice. "I'm not gonna leave a kid I hardly know alone with my dying son, not with those- those _things_ outside!" 

"Look," Dipper took a deep breath and looked up at the man with an icy stare. "If you want your son to live, you'll get out of here. I'm sorry. I just can't work with people in my way, and with more of you here, there's a higher chance that their attention will be diverted from him and onto one of _you_. They're drawn in by negative energy to steal a dying soul, but they won't hesitate to take a happy, healthy one." 

Manly Dan and the two boys all blanched at them. Wendy's brothers exchanged worried glances. "Dad," one of them said. "Maybe we should go." 

Manly Dan looked reluctant, but his sons were already trying to drag him out the door. He glanced one more time at his son on the couch and gave Dipper a glare. "Keep him safe, boy." 

Dipper nodded. They left the cabin quickly, and he glanced towards Wendy, waiting for her to follow, but she just crossed her arms and stared at him. 

He opened his mouth to speak and she said, "I'm not leaving." 

Dipper snapped his mouth shut for a second before opening it again and starting, "It's not-" 

"Safe. Yeah, I know." Wendy took a deep breath. "Dude, I'm not letting you do this alone. I'm not going to let you shut me out like you've been doing to Mabel for years now." 

Dipper immediately felt guilty. Had Mabel talked to Wendy about that? Was she really so hurt by him trying to keep her safe?

He didn't have time to think about it now. Every time a sluagh slammed against the barrier, Dipper felt the magic in his hands begin to crumple a bit. They didn't have time to argue, so he just nodded. "Alright." 

"What can I do?" Wendy shifted her weight nervously.

"I need you to go find," Dipper glanced back down at the book, finding the list of herbs, " _Penstemon digitalis_ and _Alcea rosea_."

Wendy just stared at him.

"Foxglove and hollyhocks," he clarified. 

"Oh." Wendy nodded, looking relieved. "Those grow by lake." 

Dipper dug his car keys out of his pocket and tossed them to the girl. "Hurry."

Wendy caught them and nodded again, looking determined. She hurried out the door quickly, and a moment later, Dipper heard his truck roar to life and tear off down the path. He cringed, hoping that Wendy had remembered to put on her seatbelt in her haste.

And then Dipper was alone in an unfamiliar house, silent except for the sluagh slamming themselves against the windows and the short, ragged breaths of the sleeping boy on the couch.

Dipper made quick work of looking for the things needed for the ritual. He started with digging a Sharpie out of a drawer in the kitchen and began drawing the circle on the floor (Manly Dan would have to get the floorboards replaced at some point, but at least his son would be alive). 

He made the circle as large as he could in the cramped living room, hopefully big enough to comfortably hold several people. When the circle itself was drawn, not perfect but the best that Dipper could do, he worked to draw the proper protection runes inside. 

He capped the Sharpie and threw it off to the side when he was finished and began tracing the marks with his fingers. Like the window, blue lines formed under his hand and crackled like electricity. Halfway through, he had to take a break to catch his breath.

This was a hit-or-miss. He had never tried magic so intense before. Protecting the windows was hard enough, but doing the circle on top of them was nearly impossible. 

Bill was right. Mortal bodies didn't deal with magic very well. 

After the circle was complete, Dipper went to the kitchen again in search of the remaining items needed for the ritual. He found bowls in a cabinet and went to place them carefully at each of the four cardinal directions. He then dug through his bag and pulled out two items that Mabel had always laughed at him for taking with him everywhere: a bag of salt and a vial of holy water. He poured the salt into the bowl representing south and the holy water into the bowl at the north.

Wendy was back quickly enough, and Dipper practically ripped the herbs out of her hands. She stood back as Dipper set the plants into the bowls: foxglove in the east and hollyhocks in the west. The circle seemed to glow a little brighter when all of the needed parts were in it. 

Dipper nodded towards her brother on the couch. “We need to move him into the circle.” 

Wendy nodded without question and moved to grab the boy’s shoulders. “Alright, Jack,” she muttered quietly to the sleeping man as Dipper moved to grab his feet. Jack. Yeah, that sounded right. 

They carried him over and laid him down in the circle. When they stepped out, the whole thing became encased in a light blue glow and Jack coughed. Wendy moved towards him instinctively, and Dipper’s hand shot out to stop her. She gave him a look but shifted back nonetheless. 

Dipper grabbed his book and began reciting the incantation inside. He stumbled over the first few words, but after one line he became used to the Latin and it flowed out naturally. Four lines in and the window barriers broke. The sound of glass shattering and high-pitched shrieks overtook the house as the sluagh began rushing in. 

Wendy jumped back immediately as the creatures began flying around the living room. Most of them rushed into the circle to hover over the boy, but it was quickly enough that they realized that the moment they entered the circle, they were unable to leave. The sluagh that _hadn’t_ made that fatal mistake realized the threat and rushed back out of the house. 

Dipper didn’t pause, continuing to read the spell even as Jack began to scream as the sluagh attacked him. They couldn’t physically hurt him, but they were attempting to rip his soul out of his body, which couldn’t be the most pleasant experience. 

One of the sluagh flew to the edge of the circle, staring right at Dipper with glowing red eyes. “Thissss issss a missstake, boy,” it hissed. Wendy made a disgusted face at it. 

Dipper continued reading. 

“We will not be leaving without a sssssssoul,” it went on. The shrieks from within the circle intensified. Dipper finished the incantation and waited for the spell to work and banish the sluagh. 

Nothing happened. 

The creature at the edge of the circle looked as smug as a sluagh could probably look. “That ssssspell is outdated.” 

Dipper could feel Wendy panicking even without looking at her. He tried to keep his cool, shutting the book and pulling it towards his chest. 

“No sssssoul, no leaving,” the creature stated again. 

Dipper took a deep breath. There was no time to think. He stepped closer towards the circle. “Then take mine.” 

It was a dangerous bluff. If Dipper was wrong, then he would actually die right now. He prayed that he knew what he was doing. 

Wendy inhaled sharply. “Dipper, what are you-” 

Dipper stepped into the circle and the creatures surged towards him. Several crashed right into his chest, ripping the air from his lungs, and for a dangerous moment, he thought, _Fuck, I’m going to die_. 

And then the sluagh ripped backwards as if they had been burned. They backed up to the other side of the circle, putting a wide gape between them. They didn’t go back to attacking the whimpering boy on the ground, either, to which Dipper was relieved.

The sluagh all shrieked and thrashed, attempting to break down the barrier. Dipper's head spun; he couldn't hold it much longer.

The sluagh that had talked to Dipper before reappeared out of the flock. "You- you are tainted!" it spluttered. Dipper flinched. 

"A sssssoul unlike others," the thing continued, and Dipper frowned. He had anticipated that they wouldn't be able to steal his soul when it was still bound to Bill, but what was it going on about now? 

"Tainted," it repeated. "Not jusssst one, but two." 

Two? What did that mean?

"You await a fate worssssse than ourssss, boy," it hissed. 

"Enough!" Wendy shouted from behind him, and suddenly she was grabbing his wrist and yanking him out of the circle. "Dipper, do it now, when they're distracted!"

Even through his daze, Dipper was quick to open the book again and begin reading the incantation over. This time, the noise amplified even more, and he knew it was working. 

He wasn't even fully through the incantation when the sluagh began to smoke and evaporate within the circle, bringing the room to an echoing silence. 

The second they were gone, Dipper released the magical boundary and fell to his knees. He knew Wendy was running to her brother to make sure he was okay, so he brought his legs up to his chest and put his head between his knees, panting. 

"Dude, you okay?" Wendy asked after she was satisfied with her brother's condition, crouching down next to him. 

"Yeah," he said breathily, offering her a weak smile. "Magic just takes a lot out of you." 

"Do you want to lay down?" she offered. She glanced back towards her brother again.

"No, I," Dipper took a deep breath and pushed himself to his feet. "I need to be getting home." 

Wendy looked worried as she stood up with him. "Dude... thank you." 

Dipper smiled. "Of course." 

They had a brief goodbye before Dipper was stumbling away to his truck. As he sat back in his seat, he started to feel a bit better. He was still feeling drained, but there was a different kind of power swimming around inside of him. 

While he felt better by the time he got back to the Shack, he couldn't get the thought of what the sluagh said out of his head.

_"Not just one, but two."_

What did that mean?

He walked right past Stan, glad that the Mystery Shack was closed today and that he could flee to his room. He could tell that his great uncle wanted to question him, but he knew Dipper well enough to wait. Dipper threw his stuff down as soon as he got upstairs and went immediately to climb out the triangular window and onto the ledge to think. 

\------

Dipper was still recovering the next day, but that wasn't enough to keep him inside and away from research. Though the Shack was open, it was his day off, so he went into the woods to study a moss that hummed and sang when it got wet. 

There was only so much he could sketch a still image of _moss_ in his flora journal, however, before he got bored by the activity. As he expected, he hadn't been able to sleep the night before, haunted by the sluagh's words. He hastened his way through the sketch, allowing it to become slightly sloppy towards the end, and sat back against a tree to take notes. He didn't remember his eyes slipping closed and the pencil falling from his fingers, but he soon found himself standing on a beach with no knowledge of how he got there. 

The Gravity Falls lake was smooth and calm, no hint of fishermen or lake monsters in sight. Dipper found his legs moving of their own accord as he sat down on the sand. Small waves splashed against his bare toes. 

It was warm and calm and absolutely nothing like his other dreams. Birds flew across the sky with a backdrop of a setting sun. The chirping of cicadas from the trees behind him was familiar and calming. Dipper’s skin was warm and healthy, and for once, his head wasn’t cloudy. There was no danger in sight. 

He was woken from the dream soon enough, but he didn't want to open his eyes. He was warm and felt safe and a hand was carding through his hair, working out the tangles. His sleepy thoughts upon waking up were just a mantra of _warm warm warm safe safe safe_. He had no idea how long he'd been out, but it was the best sleep he'd had in weeks. It was the first time that he hadn't either been dreamless or been attacked by nightmares, so- 

Wait. 

Dipper's eyes shot open, but he didn't move, suddenly paralyzed with fear. His head was in a lap, and the hand was still running through his curls. From his position, all he could see were black slacks covering long legs and shiny black shoes. 

The hand in his hair stilled, and Dipper's breath caught. "I know you're awake, Pine Tree." 

Dipper released his breath in a sigh of relief ( _relief? why should I be relieved?_ ). He sat up, pulling away, and Bill didn't stop him. 

"What are you doing?" the boy grouched, more annoyed than anything else. He was too relaxed to get angry. He sat back, pulling his knees up to his chest. Bill was leaning lazily against the same tree that Dipper must have fallen asleep on, his legs stretched out in front of him. He didn't look too fazed by the fact that he was sitting on the forest floor while wearing an obviously nice suit. 

"Siphoning your energy like gasoline," the demon mused, his eyes shining bright. Judging by the sun's position in the sky, it was late afternoon already, but the trees surrounding them provided a shade and made Bill's eyes look much more predatorial. 

Dipper rolled his eyes. "And you couldn't have woken me up?" 

"Actually, no." Bill folded one leg and crossed it over the other. "By the time I got here, you hardly had enough energy to support _yourself_. I had to let you sleep so you could build that back up. So I could take it again." 

Dipper hummed in response, digging his phone out of his pocket. He had a text from Mabel asking him if he could read and revise a paper for her if she sent it to him later, and he replied a quick affirmative before tucking the device back into his jeans. 

“I didn’t have any nightmares,” he commented offhandedly, gauging the demon for a reaction. 

“Of course you didn’t,” Bill scoffed. “You think I’d allow that kind of dark energy to get so close to me?” 

Dipper blinked. “Wait, so… you can repel the nightmares?” 

“When I’m around, yeah.” Bill shrugged. 

“Why didn’t you do it before?” Dipper asked, bristling. 

Bill studied him carefully. “You’re assuming I’m always watching you when you’re sleeping, Pine Tree,” he commented. “Which I am,” he added. “Always watching. But not always from this dimension.” 

He didn’t miss the hasty avoidance of the question, but he decided not to press it. "Did you see what happened yesterday?" he asked before he could stop himself. 

Bill looked amused. "Of course I did. I'll admit, I was a bit impressed by your act of fake martyrdom." 

Dipper rolled his eyes. "It wasn't fake," he muttered, but it didn't sound convincing. 

Bill snorted. "Please, kid. You wouldn't sacrifice yourself for someone you hardly know, even if it was Red's brother. You've got a better sense of self-preservation than that." 

On the contrary, maybe Dipper _didn't_ have a sense of self-preservation. He was allowing himself to sleep in the lap of a demon and actually feel _safe_ around said demon, after all. Bill's words made him squirm as he realized the truth in them. He'd like to think that he was a good person and would do it for anyone, but... 

"Don't hurt yourself, kid," Bill laughed, seeing his conflicted expression. "That's _my_ job." 

Dipper rolled his eyes once more. "Don't you have somewhere else to be?" 

“Always,” the demon hummed. “But it’s in the mindscape. So you could tag along if you wanted, kid. Watch me build some nightmares. I’d bet you’ve got great ideas about how to keep someone from turning out the lights for a week!”

Dipper paled. He had enough nightmares of his own without seeing the ones that Bill formed. “I think I’ll pass.” 

Bill pouted. “You’re no fun. Aren’t you just going to go back to your boring research, anyways?” 

“I’m not sure,” Dipper admitted. He side-eyed the journal in which he had been sketching the moss earlier with disdain. “I’m probably just going to go home and try to get more sleep, I guess. I didn’t realize how badly I needed it.” While the power nap was nice, his body still felt like it wasn’t ready to get up. 

Bill sighed. “Just go back to sleep here, Pine Tree.” He laid his legs out flat again. 

Dipper frowned. “What? No!” He was humiliated at the thought. He couldn’t believe that he had let his guard down out in the woods in the first place, so he couldn’t _willingly_ go to sleep with the demon around!

Bill gave him a bored stare. “I’m not going to say it again.” 

He said it casually, but it still sent chills down Dipper’s spine. He couldn’t believe himself when he nodded and was already screaming at himself in his own head about how stupid he was. His body moved of its own accord, too exhausted to pass up the opportunity to get uninterrupted sleep. Even when he moved to lay his head on Bill’s lap again, he couldn’t bring himself to stop. “Are you sure?” he asked, moving to lay down. 

“I wouldn’t have said it if I wasn’t.” 

That was enough for Dipper. He settled down, cheek pressed against the warmth of Bill’s leg. It was awkward at first, and though he forced his eyes closed, he couldn’t see himself relaxing enough to actually fall asleep. 

But then Bill’s hand came back down to comb through his hair and he was out like a light.


	8. Chapter Eight

Dipper forgot that his birthday was coming up until he woke on on the morning of September twenty-second to a flood of texts from Mabel, his parents, and several of his buddies from high school who probably only remembered because of a Facebook notification. 

Through sleep-muddled eyes, he blinked at his phone. His mom had sent him a handful of pictures, each one depicting a different year of his and Mabel's birthday. In each one, they had been shoved together and forced to smile for the camera. Mabel's grin was always genuine, but as the pictures got more recent, it was easy to tell that Dipper's was getting more and more faked. He wondered if his mom noticed. 

Mabel had also sent him multiple texts, the first one just saying, **HAPPY BIRTHDAY BRO-BRO! YOU'RE 19! WE'RE 19!**

Following that were several individual texts of confetti-related emojis and finally, a picture of sprinkle-covered pancakes with a single candle sticking out the top. The text attached explained that Mabel's roommate had made them for her and that some of her college friends were taking her out shopping for the day. That made Dipper smile. He was glad that Mabel had that kind of emotional support at school. 

He flicked through the pictures from his mom once more. They just served to remind him that this was his first birthday away from his twin. 

He sent quick messages of gratitude for the birthday wishes out to his family and friends and then sent Mabel a horrible selfie that made his bed-head obvious and a text that just said, **I'll be spending our birthday in bed.**

She responded in seconds with a picture of herself, pouting, but still looking much nicer than him with her hair done and a paper crown on her head that said, 'BIRTHDAY PRINCESS' in blue letters. He wondered if she made it herself. Her text just said, **go get the mail first at least**.

That piqued Dipper's interest enough, so he crawled out of bed and started getting ready for the day. He'd have to work even if it was his birthday, so he pulled on his Mystery Shack t-shirt with his jeans. The crocotta bite on his arm was healed, but it was still horribly scarred. As Dipper threw on a jacket, he wondered if he'd ever be able to go without one again. 

He opened the door to exit his room and nearly tripped over something right in front of it. Dipper knelt down to pick it up and frowned. It was a thick book, at least a few hundred pages, and it was dusty and smelled like musk. The sticky note taped to the front read, _'Found this while digging through some boxes. Happy birthday, or whatever.'_

Dipper grinned. "Sure you did, Grunkle Stan," he said quietly to himself, pulling the note off. 

It was a spellbook. That was obvious. Dipper blew the dust off the cover. The name was in Latin, and when he flipped through the pages, he saw that the contents were as well, but margin notes had been written in a neat script explaining what every spell did. Dipper clutched the book to his chest for a moment, trying to quell his excitement. He ducked back into his room to place the book next to the stack of cards he'd received in the mail from relatives and the box of goodies that he'd been sent by his parents. 

He finally made it downstairs, and Grunkle Stan was cooking breakfast. He obviously was trying to act like he didn't care, but Dipper's normal mug was already sitting at his spot at the table, filled to the brim with steaming coffee. Just a moment after Dipper sat down, Stan set a plate of scrambled eggs and toast in front of him and sat down at the opposite side of the table with his own plate. 

Dipper grinned at the old man, and Stan squirmed. "What?" he grouched, feigning annoyance. 

"Thanks," Dipper said, beaming. "For the book, I mean." 

Grunkle Stan looked like he was going to deny it, but instead just shoved a forkful of eggs into his mouth and muttered, "Eat your breakfast, kid." They fell into a comfortable silence. 

As they finished up eating, Grunkle Stan interrupted the quiet with, "You heard from your sister yet today?" 

Dipper started to say, "Yeah, she-" and then his eyes widened and he remembered the reason he had been inspired to get out of bed in the first place. He jumped up from the table and ran over to throw open the front door. 

Sure enough, a large box- patterned with flower stickers and glitter- sat on the doorstep. Dipper picked it up and carried it to the kitchen, setting it on the table with a grin. 

Dipper had mailed out her gift a few days earlier, and she had received it the day before. It was _Luminos fungus_ , a species of mushroom that Dipper had found deep in the woods that could hold a glow for up to twenty-four hours at a time before it needed to be watered again. It had taken him a while to figure out how to send it, but sealed tupperware in a tightly-packed box marked _'FRAGILE!!!'_ had seemed to do it. Mabel had loved it, claiming how happy she was to have a new nightlight. She had already re-planted it into a proper flower pot.

Mabel had somehow planned it perfectly so that her box would arrive at the Mystery Shack on the morning of Dipper's birthday. Grunkle Stan watched, amused, as Dipper used a butter knife to slice the tape open and almost stabbed himself in the process. 

There was paper confetti (not glitter, though, thank god) at the top of the box, and Dipper pushed it aside to get to a gallon-sized ziplock bag. He pulled it out, revealing that it was full of Mabel's homemade chocolate chip muffins, and he laughed. Stan snatched the bag out of his hand in a heartbeat and Dipper rolled his eyes. 

Underneath of where the bag had been, there was a pile of black fabric. Dipper knew what it was immediately, and his heart surged as his hands landed on the soft material. He pulled the sweater out of the box, shaking it open and brushing some lingering confetti off before turning it over so he could see the design. 

It was another Mabel Classic, of course. She didn't always make him sweaters for occasions, but it was often enough that Dipper had grown to anticipate them and love them when they were received. He was glad this one was black, though, and not hot pink like the last one had been. 

It had a crudely-stitched image of a cartoon-like ghost in white and the words _'GHOST HUNTER'_ in red. Dipper laughed quietly to himself, running his fingertips over the fragile stitching. He hugged it to his chest for a moment, taking in the scent of lavender and something sweet, like candy. It was overly feminine but also heartbreakingly familiar, and Dipper didn't hesitate to pull off his jacket (turning away so Stan wouldn't see the scar) and pull the turtleneck over his head. 

Grunkle Stan cackled the moment he read what it said, but Dipper held his head high. He pulled the last item out of the box: a homemade card. The drawings were simplistic, not anything like what Mabel’s actual effort-filled art looked like, but that made it all the better. The card folded out to reveal that it was actually several pieces of paper taped together, and it was actually a comic about Dipper and Mabel as knights fighting a goblin to win back their birthday cake. 

Dipper was laughing by the end, but by the time he set it down, there was a stinging in his eyes and a pain in his chest. This was his first birthday not spent with his twin. 

Grunkle Stan seemed to realize this quickly enough and, somewhat awkwardly, muttered, “Hey, cheer up, kid. Let’s say you and me go to Greasy’s after work tonight, alright? Get ye some pancakes for dinner.” 

Dipper blinked at the old man before his face split into a grin. “Sure, Grunkle Stan. That’d be great.” 

The rest of the day went by normally: working in the Mystery Shack and getting Sidney and Connor out of trouble as they constantly messed things up. Bill didn’t show up at all, but Dipper knew he was nearby. He’d grown somewhat accustomed to recognizing that Bill really _was_ always watching, just from the mindscape. Anyways, Dipper was glad that he still kept true to his word and didn’t bother Dipper at work. 

As promised, Grunkle Stan took Dipper out to dinner at Greasy’s that night. Several girls giggled and complimented his dorky sweater, and Dipper just laughed and thanked them as if they were being genuine. He ate pancakes and sent a picture of them to Mabel, and it was great. 

He was actually glad that Grunkle Stan didn’t try to make a big deal out of his birthday. While he was glad that Mabel had great friends who wanted to make her day special, Dipper wasn’t into anything showy like that, and this was more than enough for him. 

When they got back to the house, Dipper planned to just retreat to his room and do homework, but when Grunkle Stan begrudgingly proposed an old horror-movie marathon, Dipper couldn’t resist. He sat on the floor as his great uncle sat in the old chair and they laughed and made rude comments about the horrible editing for hours. 

It wasn’t a birthday with Mabel, but it was still a good birthday nonetheless.

When Grunkle Stan decided to turn in for the night, Dipper decided to do the same. He went to his room to grab pajamas and his glasses before heading to the bathroom to shower. 

After his shower, Dipper spent a while scrutinizing himself in the mirror. He took his contacts out and blinked at his reflection from underneath the thick glass of glasses, his vision a little warped from the curvature of the lens. He pulled at his hair, frowning when it curled under his fingers, and leaned close to the mirror to note the flecks of color in his brown eyes. He spent an embarrassingly long time looking at himself in different stances and trying to determine which one made him look the most intimidating. 

By the time Dipper made it back to his room, it was pretty late, but he still wasn't surprised to find Bill lying back on his bed like he owned the place. He was reading one of Dipper's books, and a month before, he would have been enraged and would have accused the demon of changing the book's contents, or something. But now, Dipper was familiar enough with Bill making himself at home wherever he was that it didn’t faze him and he walked right past. 

“Long day, Pine Tree?” the demon asked as Dipper went to put his phone on its charger. 

“Kinda. But it was a good one.” He moved to sit at his desk and started flipping through his birthday cards again. 

When Bill spoke again, he was right behind Dipper. “You’re upset about something,” he mused. He said it matter-of-factly, without the teasing that Dipper would have expected. 

Dipper’s hands stilled on the card that Mabel had made for him with the comic strip. There wasn’t really any sense in lying. “It’s just weird to not spend my birthday with Mabel.” 

“Birthday?” Bill grabbed one of the cards from the pile and starting skimming through the brightly-colored text. 

Dipper blinked at him. “Uh… yeah? It’s like- uh- humans’ way of celebrating getting a year older. I guess.” He had never had to explain birthdays before.

Bill rolled his eyes. “I’m familiar with the concept, kid. I’ve been around since the dawn of time. I just find it funny, is all. You’re celebrating the passing of time, when really you’re just getting closer and closer to the end of your already-short lives. So happy year-closer-to-death, Pine Tree.” 

“Um,” Dipper frowned. “Thanks, I guess.” 

"Welcome!" the demon chirped. The bed creaked as Bill sat down again, returning his attention to the book (a quick glance over informed Dipper that it was a book of cryptids; one of his favorites). Feeling Dipper's gaze on him, Bill looked up and, eyeing up Dipper's glasses, mused, "You know, you look a lot like Stan when he was younger."

Dipper frowned, but the demon had already resumed reading the book. "You knew my uncle that long ago?" 

"Hm?" Bill asked, sounding distracted. "Oh. Yeah. Your uncle. Right."

That didn't seem to be the most normal response, but nothing Bill said was _normal_ , so Dipper decided to ignore it. He got up from his chair and went to pull one of Mabel's scrapbooks off the bookshelf, folding his legs underneath him on the floor to flip through it. 

They read in silence, and Dipper really didn't mind it. Bill hanging around to absorb his energy had become routine enough that it was weirder when he _didn't_ show up. Dipper had become used to being slightly drowsy at all times. It just made his few peaceful nights of sleep all the more better.

Dipper's hand paused over a picture of him and Mabel. She had been taking a selfie and he had just gotten back from a day doing field work. There were leaves in his hair and a startled expression on his face, but he had managed to force a small smile as Mabel squeezed in close to him and took the picture.

He smiled, brushing his fingers over the picture, and his eyes stung.

After a while, the heels of Bill's shoes clicked across the room. He felt the demon pause behind him, looking over his shoulder. Bill sighed. "Go to sleep, Pine Tree." 

"What?" Dipper glanced up, but Bill was already gone. 

Dipper rolled his eyes, slightly annoyed at the demon’s flightiness. But whether it was by natural or magical causes, Dipper felt his eyes threatening to slip shut, so he quickly turned in for the night.

Dipper didn't remember falling asleep, but when he opened his eyes again the world was very bright and _very_ pink. 

_What the hell?_ He was standing in a field- no, a _meadow_ \- of flowers, pink and red and yellow as far as he could see. The sky hung over in a permanent sunset-like peach. A castle, looking like something straight out of a storybook, loomed in the distance. Dipper's dreams were definitely _not_ this colorful. 

And then the world flickered like an old movie and Dipper knew that he was in the mindscape. 

One could make their own dreamscape appear any way they wanted, of course. Dipper allowed his to remain monochrome because it took less effort to maintain and because he simply didn't mind. But he totally understood why somebody would grow bored by that kind of dreariness and want to redecorate. 

Somebody like Mabel. 

As Dipper started off in the direction of the castle, taking in the too-real warmth of the area and the sickly-sweet smell of the flowers, he argued with himself about how this could be Mabel’s mindscape. It had to be, of course. The entire landscape screamed Mabel. But that would mean that Mabel knew how to access her mindscape willingly, and on top of that, had to have enough control over it to manipulate it more than even Dipper could. 

That meant that she knew a lot more than she had told Dipper, and he didn’t want to think about the implications of that. 

There was also the question of how Dipper _got_ here. 

He definitely didn’t know how to project himself into somebody else’s mindscape. Yet. He had entered Grunkle Stan’s mindscape that one time, of course, but that had been when he was awake and it had required a full incantation. He had been trying to learn how to do it from his sleep for years, but it required a powerful level of magic that Dipper just wasn’t at yet. 

He hadn’t even been _trying_ to project himself into Mabel’s mindscape, so that meant… 

Bill. 

Dipper didn’t know _why_ the demon would so willingly drop him into his sister’s mindscape without asking anything in return, and the more he thought about it, the less he _wanted_ to know. Demons didn’t do things just to be nice. Sure, he hadn’t _asked_ Bill to do this, but if Bill wanted something, he’d just make up some spiel about how he could read Dipper’s inner desires and was doing this so that Dipper would owe him a favor down the road. 

And then Dipper got to the castle and the doors flew open, and he forgot about his worries because there was his _sister_ who he hadn’t seen in months, _holy shit._

Mabel burst through the door in a stance that hinted that she was expecting trouble, a fighting stance with fists raised, but she froze as soon as she saw it was Dipper. He hung back, grinning at her, and she slowly lowered her arms and took a few steps towards him, the door slamming magically behind her. 

“Dipper…?” her voice was just as clear as if this was real life. 

“Hey.” He smiled and she ran forward to practically tackle him in a hug. 

“Dipper!” As she buried her face in his shirt and wrapped her arms around his neck, he was filled with warmth as he realized how much he missed this. Even though he knew it wasn’t real, it sure felt like it, and he was sure that he was smiling in his sleep. 

And then she pulled back to stare at him for a few seconds before an expression of anger took over her face and she punched his arm, demanding, “What the heck, broski?! Are you snooping in my mind?!” 

“Hey!” he rubbed his arm, glaring at her in indignation. “No! I wanted to- I wanted to see you!” 

It was the truth, even if it _wasn’t_. Mabel still didn’t know about Bill, and Dipper didn’t intend for her to. Ever. He hadn’t exactly worked out what he was going to do when Mabel wanted to visit Gravity Falls, but he planned to figure it out at some point. Maybe. 

Mabel’s expression melted into a placid one as she sheepishly mumbled, “Oh,” and gave him a grin. 

It was then that Dipper realized the changes in her appearance. One could appear however they wanted in the mindscape, and while Dipper normally stuck to his normal appearance with whatever clothes he had worn that day, it didn’t seem that Mabel had chosen to do the same. Instead of an oversized sweater, she wore a white sundress that reminded Dipper of something some of the forest faeries wore. And Dipper didn’t miss the way she was just a bit taller, her waist just a bit tighter, her skin more clear. To somebody else, the changes would have been too subtle to notice, but to Dipper, her insecurities were as clear as day. 

But the scar running down the side of her face was still as obvious as ever. Even in a world where she could manipulate everything, Mabel hadn’t chosen to hide that. As it did every day, it sent a wave of guilt into Dipper’s chest. 

It only took Mabel a second to realize that Dipper was sizing her up, seeing all of the things that she felt self-conscious about, and she quickly crossed her arms over her chest and forced a grin, saying, “So. Mini golf?” 

Dipper was glad that he and his sister still seemed to be on the same wavelength, eager to get out of a topic of uncomfortableness and move onto something fun. He smirked, daring, “You’re on.” 

Like most things, mini golf got a lot more intense in the mindscape than it would have in the real world. Mabel started by morphing the sea of flowers into an actual mini golf course, as big as an amusement park, but as both twins quickly started cheating by using magic to morph the way the ball went, it developed into something bigger. The course would change each round, the two of them taking turns on which one got to manipulate the mindscape. 

The courses got more and more intense, Dipper’s becoming lava fields in which they had to avoid plumes of magma and Mabel’s taking them directly into _space_ and having to volley the ball off of asteroids. 

When the game was over (Mabel won, of course; it was _her_ mind, but she probably would have smoked him even in the waking world), they settled back into the meadow, laughing. It made Dipper happy to see the giddiness on his sister’s face. He’d missed that. 

“So,” Mabel rested one arm on the knees pulled up to her chest, pointing at the castle, “You wanna see?” 

Dipper was sure that the castle housed Mabel’s memories, thoughts, and fears, just like the manor did his, but he wasn’t sure he was ready to look that far inside his sister’s mind just yet. “Maybe another time,” he mumbled uneasily, and she laughed. 

“I’ll be sure to clean up before then,” she joked, but an uncomfortable silence quickly fell over them as Mabel seemed to realize what Dipper had been thinking about the whole time. She cleared her throat. “So… you’re probably wondering how I knew how to do all of this,” she said softly, gesturing out towards the fields, as if reading his mind. 

Dipper nodded, glancing at her. “Kinda, yeah.” 

“I can expl-”

“Mabes-” 

They both broke off, looking away. 

“You’ve been hiding stuff,” Dipper said after a while, pulling up grass with his fingers idly. 

“Don’t say that like you haven’t been, bro-bro,” she replied quietly. There was no accusation in it, no anger. It was just the truth, but Dipper instantly felt bad nonetheless. 

“I just want to protect you,” he muttered, dropping his head against his knees and tugging at his hair in frustration. 

“I’m not a damsel in distress, Dipper,” she stressed, moving closer to wrap an arm around his shoulders comfortingly. “I can fight my own battles.” 

He looked up at her. She was still smiling like nothing was wrong. “But it’s my j-” 

“It is _not_ your job to protect me.” She frowned. “If you keep thinking like that and something happens to me, you’ll never let yourself live it down.” 

He glanced at her scar. _She doesn’t know,_ he reminded himself. 

_If she remembered, would she be so quick to forgive you?_

He pushed the thought out of his head. 

“We’ll talk about this later, alright?” Dipper forced, managing a somewhat-smile. “When we’re awake.” 

Mabel studied him carefully for a moment before nodding and returning the smile. “Alright.” 

They fell into easy conversation after that, both careful to avoid uncomfortable topics. Mabel told him more college stories that it was obvious she had been waiting to tell in person so she could gauge his reactions. Dipper laughed until his stomach hurt. 

It must have been hours before Dipper started to feel a tugging sensation at the back of his neck and a voice in his head rang out, _Time’s up, Pine Tree._

Dipper jolted up immediately and Mabel looked at him in alarm. “What? What’s wrong?” she cried, moving towards him. 

“Uh,” and yeah, Dipper could definitely feel himself being pulled out of the mindscape now, “Sorry, I gotta go. Spell’s wearing off.” 

Mabel only had time to quickly grab and squeeze his hand once before the color faded and the mindscape shifted. 

Dipper knew that he was in the office of the manor in his own mindscape immediately, but the monochromatic universe was definitely a change from the colorful one he had just been in. 

He turned, and Bill was sitting on his desk, flipping through his papers just like he did in the real world. The demon glanced up. “Have fun?” he asked, sounding bored and not really taking his attention off of whatever he was looking at. 

“I… Yeah,” Dipper murmured, eyeing him up. Bill didn’t say anything. “Why?” he asked eventually, closing a bit of the distance between them. 

Bill sighed, setting the papers down and giving Dipper a look that was hard to read. “It’s not because I like you, or anything, kid,” he practically sneered. “It’s just not convenient for me to have my pet moping around.”

There was that word again. _Pet_. 

“Plus, maybe Shooting Star will feel indebted to me and feel the need to pay me back next time she’s in town,” the demon continued, smirking. It was obvious he said it just to warrant a reaction. 

Dipper bristled immediately, grounding out, “You’re not involving Mabel in any of this. I don’t want her to even know about you.” 

“So hostile to somebody who just did something _nice_ for you, Pine Tree,” Bill drawled, feigning hurt. “Maybe your sister would be a better battery-” 

“Oh, shut up,” Dipper grumbled. He knew that the demon was just trying to provoke him. “So, you can project somebody into another person’s mindscape?” 

“I thought you wanted me to shut up?” 

Dipper glared. 

“Yes, Pine Tree,” Bill sighed, leaning forward on a gloved hand and giving him a lazy stare. “It’s easier if they’re closer to Gravity Falls, though,” he added. 

Dipper frowned. “Are you… is your power limited to Gravity Falls?” He wished he had a notebook with him to write this down. 

Bill’s eyes widened for just a moment, and Dipper wondered if he had learned something he wasn’t supposed to. “You ask too many questions, kid,” the demon settled on eventually, muttering. “Why can’t you go back to being that annoying twelve-year-old who just wanted to find the Author?” 

“Fine.” Dipper shifted his weight onto one foot, placing a hand on his hip. “Who was the Author?” 

Bill grinned. “Cheeky. I like it.” 

Dipper rolled his eyes and quickly woke himself up without a goodbye. The more time he spent around Bill, the more he got used to his comments and the less he wanted to banish him. 

Sure, he was annoying, but he _had_ helped Dipper spend his birthday with Mabel. 

As Dipper laid awake, staring at his ceiling, he realized that he and Bill were becoming _friends_. His heart jumped at the thought and he grabbed his phone to call Mabel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hirsch has said before that the twins' birthday is "the last day of summer." This might mean the last day of summer vacation, but for the sake of this fic, we'll assume that it's September 22nd, the day before the Autumnal Equinox.


	9. Chapter Nine

“Hey, Dipper, watch out! You’re gonna-” 

“ _Shit_!” 

In two quick seconds, Dipper had bumped into a little kid running amok in the gift shop and subsequently spilled the contents of the box he was holding: several Gravity Falls snow globes that quickly smashed on the floor. The kid got out of the way of the glass in time, luckily, but he looked overly alarmed at Dipper’s outburst as the teen quickly threw the box onto the counter and went to get the mop. 

He glared slightly at Sidney for her belated warning, though he knew it wasn’t really her fault. “Find that kid’s parent,” he ground out quietly, and she squeaked in response and hastily nodded. 

Things like this had been happening more and more often to Dipper. His luck had been spiraling down since his birthday the month before. 

This wasn’t the first time he had broken something in the gift shop, much to his great uncle’s chagrin (in the end, Grunkle Stan wasn’t losing any money, as he just took it out of Dipper’s paycheck, anyway). 

He had missed the deadline on a paper for his Creative Writing class, thinking it was on a Friday when it was actually a Thursday, and while his teacher was understanding enough to not give him a zero like the policy stated, she had still been forced to dock a good amount of points on an otherwise great paper. 

He had also nearly fallen off the roof the other day after dozing on the ledge and probably would have died if Bill hadn’t appeared at the right time to catch him, wake him up, and give him a long lecture about sleeping responsibly. 

On top of all of that, he still hadn’t managed to pry any information about Mabel about how much she really knew. She had heavily implied that she had been practicing magic for just about as long as he had, but after that, she zipped her lips and stated that they’d talk more about it when they were together in person. It filled Dipper with horrible anxiety, but he decided that it could wait until he was home for Thanksgiving break in a few weeks. 

There was no use stressing about it right now. At least Mabel was safe at college and away from the supernatural aspects of Gravity Falls. 

Sidney managed to find the kid's mom, who promptly escorted him out of the Shack with a flush on her cheeks and without buying anything. Dipper sighed as he mopped up the broken glass and antifreeze-filled water. 

After the mess was cleaned up (right before Grunkle Stan got back with a tour, luckily), Dipper sat behind the counter. Technically, that was what Sidney was on the clock for right now, but after seeing Dipper’s annoyed glare, she squeaked that she would take inventory while he relaxed behind the counter. 

After the tourists flooded through and Grunkle Stan left for the next tour, the gift shop grew silent. Sidney went to take her break (outside, probably to get away from Dipper’s bad attitude), and Dipper was left alone. He suddenly wished he had his headphones on him to listen to some music off of his phone, but he couldn’t leave the gift shop unattended long enough to go get them. 

The clock on the wall ticked obnoxiously loud. Dipper sighed. 

To pass the time, he leaned over the counter and pulled a Gravity Falls-customized matchbook off of the rack. He flipped it open and broke a match off, then focused on lighting it using just magic. 

After a few seconds of willing it to ignite, the first match sparked, and Dipper grinned. 

While Grunkle Stan probably wouldn’t be happy to find Dipper practicing magically lighting things on fire while working, it served to distract him for a while. He had gone through the half the pack pretty quickly, and after just lighting them and blowing them out grew to be boring, he worked on both lighting them _and_ extinguishing them just by using magic. 

“That’s a cool trick.” 

Dipper’s head snapped up and he dropped the match he was using, glad that his magical instinct kicked in and extinguished said match as he did so. He certainly hadn’t heard the man in front of him come in, the bell above the door obviously not doing its job, and he feared how long he had been watching him. 

Since the Society of the Blind Eye had been disbanded during Dipper’s first summer in Gravity Falls, the town’s inhabitants had become much more aware of the presence of magic and supernatural creatures. Still, most of them tried to ignore it. When outsiders came in, they all pretended that the paranormal stuff was just lore. And even after seven summers in Gravity Falls, Dipper wasn’t sure how well most people would react to a mortal magic-user. On Grunkle Stan’s request, he tried to keep it to himself. 

Dipper eyed up the man in shock, trying to gauge his reaction to see if he was going to accuse Dipper of witchcraft and try to have him burned at the stake, but then he realized that it was the man he had met back on campus early in September- the weird guy who helped him with his books. He relaxed, but just slightly. 

He hadn’t seen the man around campus since then. In fact, he still wasn’t sure the guy was even a student, though he still couldn’t fathom why else he would have been on campus on a school day. He hadn’t seen him around town, either, and this time, he had actually been paying attention. 

“Hey,” he said, and it came out much more awkward than he intended, “Uh-” 

“I quite like magic tricks,” the man drawled with a grin, and Dipper frowned. 

“Oh,” he murmured, “Right.” 

Well, he wasn’t outright accusing Dipper of black magic, so that was good. 

Dipper remembered that he had never gotten the man’s name, so he started, “Hey, what’s your-” 

“Just this, please.” The man set a snow globe (just like the ones that Dipper had broken earlier) on the counter, cutting him off. Dipper blinked at the knick-knack, also catching a glimpse of the man’s hands with neatly-trimmed fingernails and a peak of a winding black tattoo showing from under the cuff of his hoodie sleeve. 

“Oh, sure,” Dipper replied, picking the thing up with one hand and scanning the barcode with the scanner in the other. “That’ll be fifteen eighty-six with the tax.” 

The man handed over a crumpled twenty, and while Dipper got his change, he shoved the snow globe unceremoniously into the front pocket of his purple hoodie. Dipper blinked at him, wondering if he should offer the man a bag or some wrapping for the glass item, but the man just smiled at him once more and laughed, “Thanks,” way too happily. He left the shop before Dipper could say anything else. Once again, Dipper was left without the man’s name.

When Dipper was alone again, he frowned and stared at his hands. It was almost as if the man hadn’t recognized him this time. 

Hours later, Dipper was left questioning why a Gravity Falls local had made the trek all the way out to the Mystery Shack just to buy a snow globe. 

\-----

“ _Ventus!_!” 

There was as a flutter of wings as a flock of birds flew up and out of the trees around Dipper, but otherwise, nothing happened. The teen sighed in frustration and threw the spellbook on the ground so he could pinch the bridge of his nose, then quickly remembered how old the thing was and went to pick it up again. 

“Having trouble, Pine Tree?” 

The wildlife around him seemed to quiet as the demon appeared behind him, the buzzing of insects dying down to a low static hum. Bill was leaning up against a tree at the edge of the clearing when Dipper turned around, but he slinked out of the shadows when the boy didn’t say anything. 

When the demon was just an arm’s length away, Dipper shoved the spellbook towards him. “Tell me what I’m doing wrong,” he requested reluctantly, muttering. 

Bill blinked at him, then grinned. “Sure.” 

Dipper braced himself, half-expecting the demon to pretend to be correcting the book’s Latin and actually just give him a spell to summon angry spirits, or something, but Bill just hummed and read over the spell, looking pensive. “What exactly are you trying to do, here?” he asked eventually, not looking up. 

Dipper frowned. “Um. Summon wind? It’s pretty self-explanatory.” 

Bill glanced up at that, rolling his eyes. “Obviously. But what _exactly_ are you trying to do? What did you have in mind as the target for the spell?” 

Dipper furrowed his brow. “Well, I didn’t exactly have a _target_ -”

Bill sighed, shoving the old book back towards Dipper, who fumbled to not drop it. “There’s your problem, kid. Trust me, elemental spells are much easier with a general target in mind. You’ll get a lot more results by trying to take out… say, _that_ tree,” he pointed to one at the edge of the clearing, “than by trying to summon a light breeze.” 

Dipper stared at the tree. It was pretty tall, and not a flimsy tree at all. “I don’t know how-” 

“Look, kid, that whole “start small” thing? That doesn’t work with magic.” 

Dipper frowned, but nodded. If anybody knew about magic, it was Bill. For once, the demon seemed to be completely genuine, so Dipper decided to trust his judgement on it. 

They got to work, Dipper using all his might to try and summon a wind strong enough to knock down a fully-grown tree. The first few (okay, maybe more than a few) attempts went horribly, resulting in slight breezes that barely rusted Dipper’s hair. But as Bill stood a few feet back, laughing and mocking Dipper’s attempts, the breeze grew stronger and stronger in his frustration. At one point, a large wind tore through the clearing and Dipper expected it to actually work, but it stopped just short of the tree. He groaned in frustration as the demon cackled. 

Dipper was about to try again, but stiffened as he felt Bill press up against his back. He froze, eyes widening and heart practically stopping, but then Bill was moving his arms and mumbling something about Dipper’s stance being completely off. 

There was a tense moment where Dipper couldn’t think of anything except for how warm Bill was and how this wasn’t actually that bad, but then his thoughts turned more into, _holy shit I’m thinking this about Bill Cipher, what the fuck_. Luckily (for Dipper’s heart, which he was pretty sure had permanently stopped), Bill stepped back quickly enough. 

The teen had to take a moment to steady his breathing, desperately hoping that Bill hadn’t noticed. When he called the spell out again, his voice cracked, and he used Bill’s cruel laughter as a way to further compose himself. 

The next time he tried the spell, it worked. 

The large tree crashed to the ground (luckily _opposite_ of where Dipper and Bill were), nearly taking out several trees with it. Birds flew up and the sound echoed loudly throughout the forest. 

Dipper stared for a moment before grinning and crying out triumphantly. 

He looked to Bill for acknowledgement, and when the demon gave him a Cheshire-like grin, he felt pride swell up in his chest. “Not bad, kid,” Bill praised, smirking. “Now, do it again.” 

Time seemed to pass quickly (“Time isn’t real,” Bill had scoffed when Dipper said so), and pretty soon, several trees had been knocked down in Dipper’s pursuit of improving his magic. After Bill was finally satisfied with Dipper’s wind-related incantations, he had moved on to wanting to see Dipper work with other elemental spells (the easiest spells, according to Bill, which just made Dipper feel worse about not being able to use the wind spell earlier). 

After a while, as Dipper grew bored of using innocent trees as his targets, Bill offered himself up for Dipper to practice on. At first Dipper was reluctant, not wanting to try to hit a living, _moving_ target, but then Bill started to taunt him and Dipper took the bait. 

Bill took the first few hits without retaliating, allowing Dipper to get used to the different spells until fire was readily forming in his palms, and then he started to fight back. He’d dodge the attacks quickly and while Dipper swore and tried to put out the trees that he had subsequently set ablaze, he’d go in for the kill (maybe literally; Dipper tried to react quickly enough that he wouldn’t find out). 

Dipper knew the demon was holding back and that he could incapacitate the boy in a second, so he wondered why he was being gracious enough to allow Dipper to practice on him. 

“I’ll have you able to summon a rainstorm by the end of the day,” Bill huffed at one point after dodging an attack, sounding determined. 

Hours passed, and despite the October chill, they were both soaked in sweat. Dipper couldn’t believe how much the magic took out of him, and he had to wonder how easily Bill’s human body tired out. 

Dipper was down to his t-shirt and shorts, hoodie long-since tossed off to the side. Even Bill had lost the gloves, top hat, and vest, tossed unceremoniously on top of Dipper’s bag. The bowtie had been loosened and draped around his neck overtop of his now-rumpled black dress shirt. His blonde hair stuck up in multiple places, and it was hard not to think of how it looked suggestively messy. 

Dipper had caught himself staring more than once. 

Bill hadn’t allowed for breaks during the day, and by the time the sun was setting and Dipper was getting ready to go back to the Shack, he was eager to collapse into bed and sleep for a week. Combined with Bill sponging up his energy by hanging around, the magic had really taken its toll on his body. 

Before he started back to the Shack, they sat and rested together against a tree, both panting. Bill’s shoulder was pressed firmly against his, but he was too tired to readjust his position away. 

“Nice work today, Pine Tree,” Bill commended, sounding genuine. “I’ll make a mage out of you yet.” 

\-----

After that, magic practice with Bill became a regular routine. 

On his days off, he’d meet Bill in the woods early in the morning and they’d spar until the sun went down. When he came back dripping in sweat and sometimes with cuts on his face, Grunkle Stan didn’t even question it. Years of fieldwork had made this the norm. 

Trying to balance it around work and school proved to be a problem, though. When he wasn’t in class, he’d be working at the Shack. On top of that, he still had loads of homework. 

And on top of _that_ , he was still trying to dig further into dream demons and figure out exactly what was haunting his dreams. 

While his nightmares didn’t stop, they had at least become so normal to Dipper that full nights of sleep were weird. 

He definitely needed to get as much sleep as possible, though. Working on his magic drained him like he had just run a marathon. 

Over the course of a few weeks, his magic got better and better. Elemental spells became second nature to him to the point where he no longer needed an incantation with them. 

He had also worked on his teleporting. Contrary to Bill’s initial statement, “starting small” was sometimes the path to take. Recalling his heaving after teleporting a few miles with Bill the first time, Dipper started by taking it several feet at a time. 

It had taken a lot longer than the wind spells to actually be able to do it. Teleporting was heavy magic and, like Bill had told him, was definitely _not_ meant for mortal bodies. 

But he eventually got it down, and after a long, strenuous process, he had worked his way up to being able to teleport all the way across the clearing. Bill was convinced that he would eventually get it down and be able to do it with ease, but as Dipper’s stomach still churned when he did so, he wasn’t so sure. 

Every time Dipper would doubt himself, Bill would add an extra hour onto their training for the day. He learned to keep his mouth shut. 

Bill showed up in more than just the woods, though. More often than not, he hung around Dipper’s room while the boy worked on homework or research. In fact, if Dipper wasn’t at school or work, Bill was probably around. 

Bill also, for some reason, found it necessary to randomly attack Dipper while he was _at home_ in order to test his magic and keep him on his toes. But Dipper had yet to be maimed too horribly, which Bill commended. 

To Dipper’s chagrin, he found himself full of pride every time the demon would praise him on his work. For a terrifying moment, he thought about how he really _was_ becoming Bill’s pet- he was like a dog that was being trained with positive reinforcement, that reinforcement coming in the form of praise. He quickly pushed that thought far out of his mind and tried not to entertain it any further. In the end, he couldn’t quell his happiness when Bill would compliment his work. 

He had to admit that he and Bill were _definitely_ friends by now. Well, at least by Mabel’s standards. After their birthday, he had brought up Bill to her multiple times, excluding the fact that it was _Bill_. He just mentioned having somebody who he was unintentionally growing close to and who he liked even though he _really_ didn’t want to. Mabel was always eager to talk about it, trying to give him advice. While she had yet to say it outloud, Dipper got the idea that she thought he was actually talking about a romantic interest- probably a girl- but if that was what she needed to believe to not know it was Bill, then he was fine with that. 

Bill probably wasn’t even familiar with the human concept of friendship. It wasn’t like Dipper was going to bring it up to him, either. He still didn’t know if this could even be classified as that or not. 

Either way, Bill was definitely the closest thing he had to a friend in Gravity Falls. 

\-----

“What are you doing, Pine Tree?” 

Dipper didn’t look over from his computer as the demon appeared in his room, lounging on his bed as per usual. He clicked open the chat window he had going with Mabel and typed out a hasty response before continuing to scroll through his browser. 

“Pine Tree?” 

“Oh, sorry,” Dipper mumbled. Bill had asked him a question. Right. “I’m booking a plane ticket.” 

His head was fuzzy and his eyes were heavy. It was late. 

“For what?” The bed creaked. 

“To go back home to Piedmont,” he replied absently, frowning at the price of a flight. 

“ _What_?” Bill was at his side in a second. When Dipper didn’t respond quickly enough for his liking, he repeated, more vehemently, “ _What_ , kid?” 

Bill was leaning in close to his laptop screen, and Dipper used one hand to swat him away so he could peer at the airfare. “Yeah, for Thanksgiving break. Next week.” 

“You can’t go.” 

“Bill, I don’t have time for this,” Dipper sighed. His head hurt. “If I view this page for too long, the prices will go up.” 

“No, Pine Tree, _seriously_ ,” the demon stressed, and now he was trying to pull the laptop away from Dipper. “You _can’t go_.” 

Dipper yanked his laptop back and rolled his chair back a few inches, anger flaring up. “What the hell, man? You can’t-” 

Bill snapped his fingers and Dipper’s laptop erupted in blue flames. 

The boy yelped and dropped the thing to the floor as it singed his fingers, jumping to his feet immediately. In his shock, it took him a moment to remember that he knew how to magically extinguish fire. By the time he had done that, though, the magic flame had already melted part of his screen. It had been gone the second it hit the floor, anyway, though. 

Dipper gaped like a fish for a minute before his rage hit him full-force. He turned to glare at the demon, who was actually looking slightly sheepish, as if he hadn’t meant for it to go that far. 

“What the _fuck_ , Bill?” he demanded. He kicked his destroyed laptop out of the way. 

“I’ll replace it,” Bill muttered, waving his hand nonchalantly. 

“I- what-” Dipper spluttered, too mad and shocked to even form a sentence. 

“Like I said, kid: you can’t go back to California.” Bill hopped up to sit on the edge of Dipper’s desk, kicking his feet out and letting them fall back against the post. 

Having finally managed to steady his breathing, Dipper decided to humor the demon. At least for a minute. Before he figured out how to kill somebody who was technically immortal. Through his teeth, he gritted, “And why, _exactly_ , can’t I?” 

“ _Because_ ,” Bill lilted sarcastically, mimicking his tone, “I can’t exactly sap your energy when you’re in California, can I? We had a deal, kid. You don’t get to decide when I take your energy, or how much.” 

Dipper frowned. “But I… I need to go home, Bill. I need to see my parents, and Mabel. What happens next month when I have to leave for winter break?” 

Bill stared him down. Dipper didn’t look away, holding onto his glare.

“Maybe we can work something out by then.” 

Dipper nodded, then mentally hit himself for how willingly he was going along with this. He should be arguing; Bill couldn’t keep him here! He needed to see his sister! 

Maybe he was just realizing that there wasn’t really any use arguing with an all-powerful demon.

Something just didn’t sit right with Dipper, though. “Bill, is… is that the only reason?” he asked slowly, carefully watching the demon for a reaction. 

“Of course. What else would there be?” Bill snapped in response, perhaps too quickly. 

There was a lot that Dipper wanted to say, mainly about how maybe Bill’s power was limited to Gravity Falls and about how maybe he was upset that he wouldn’t be able to keep constant watch over Dipper. Whether it was a possessive thing or because he was actually concerned about the boy’s safety, Dipper doubted that Bill was happy that he’d be open and unprotected against whatever force had it out for him. 

He just kept his mouth shut, though. He didn’t want to meet the same fate as his laptop. 

“I guess I’ll tell Mabel I can’t come home,” he muttered. He looked towards his melted computer again. 

Bill jumped down from the desk, hitting the floor with a soft _thud_ , and he was inches away from Dipper before the boy could react and step back. As Dipper’s breath caught, one of Bill’s arms snaked him so he could place one hand on his back and pull him closer. The other hand landed softly in his hair. As Dipper’s face was pressed against the demon’s neck and Bill’s chin rested on his head, his thoughts were a jumble of, _is this a hug?_ and _warm warm warm_ and _he smells like electricity_. 

“Thanks, kid,” Bill muttered quietly against his hair, sounding reluctant. Dipper just made a choked noise in return. 

\-----

That night, Dipper dreamed of Bill shoving him against a wall and once again tangling his fingers into his hair. 

Dipper gasped into still air as the demon’s body was pressed flush against his and screamed as sharp fangs dug into his neck. 

He woke up sweaty, scared, and confused.


	10. Chapter Ten

Weeks of training with Bill had improved Dipper's reflexes tenfold. Bill considered jumping Dipper in the middle of the night to be good practice, so the teen was well-versed in having to leap out of bed and lunge for a weapon. 

So, the second he felt his bed dip with an unfamiliar weight, he was on the floor with his switchblade flicked open before he was even fully conscious. 

... Only to find his knife pointed at the throat of a now very scared, _very_ confused Mabel. 

The switchblade dropped from Dipper's grasp in his surprise, hitting the floor with a loud _bang_ and just narrowly missing Dipper's bare foot. His twin, dressed in black leggings and a long yellow turtleneck sweater crocheted with an image of a bee and the words ‘ _WHAT'S THE BUZZ?_ ’, stared at him with wide eyes. 

Dipper gaped like a fish, and it was Mabel who finally broke the silence. "What the heckaroni, Dipstick?!" she cried. 

"Heckaroni...?" 

"Jeez, Dipper! I try to surprise you since you couldn’t come home to Piedmont for Thanksgiving, and you try to- to _gut_ me, or something?" Mabel climbed off of the bed as she spoke, picking up the knife and flicking it closed with more precision than Dipper would have expected from somebody who avoided weapons like the plague. She didn't actually look upset, but Dipper could tell she was still a little shocked. "Who were you _expecting_ , anyway? Freddy Krueger?" 

Dipper fumbled for words, still surprised to see his twin standing in front of him. The world around them was solid and full of color, so this definitely wasn't the mindscape. "I-" He didn't know what to say. He couldn't exactly tell her that he was ready to take on either one dream demon, one with too-bright eyes and a wicked smile, or another, who possibly wanted Dipper dead. "Sorry, Mabes," he said instead, grinning at her and rubbing at the back of his neck sheepishly. 

She pursed her lips at him. "Mmhmm." 

He frowned, stepping towards her with his arms out. "But hey, you're here! And-" 

"Nope!" she interrupted, using one hand to push him back. "No hugs for people who try to kill their sisters!" 

Dipper rolled his eyes as she pushed past him and took a seat in his desk chair, rolling back. She placed her elbows on her knees and folded her hands under her chin. "So," she started, and Dipper eyed her nervously, wary at her tone, "How'd you get that hickey on your neck?" 

Dipper's heart dropped into his stomach as his breathing stopped and one hand flew up to cover his neck. "I-" Had dream-Bill left marks? Was that possible?

For the past week, he’d dreamt every night of the same thing: Bill, pinning him down and rutting against him and Dipper keening in response until the demon ripped into his throat in a vampire-like manner. He hadn’t mentioned it to the real Bill, or course, nor had the demon given any implication that he knew anything about it, but Dipper could shake the feeling that Bill was secretly laughing at him.

Dipper's mind searched frantically for an excuse that wasn't 'somewhat-sexual dreams about a demon that you didn’t know I’m working with.' 

Mabel's eyes widened at Dipper's reaction, and she pumped a fist in the air triumphantly. "Aha!" she cried, leaping up out of the chair. "I _knew_ you had a secret girlfriend!" 

And that was when Dipper realized that there definitely _wasn't_ a hickey on his neck and that his sister had played him. A dirty trick. He lowered his hand slowly, glowering, as Mabel beamed and waited for a response. 

Well, he wasn't going to give her the satisfaction. He ignored her completely, digging through his dresser in search of clean clothes. When he found some, he pushed past her and out of his room, muttering, "I'm going to go shower." 

As the door swung shut behind him, he could hear Mabel's muffled voice crying, "You can't run away from your feelings forever!"

\-----

While Dipper showered, he tried to think of possible cover stories for why he reacted the way he did. After realizing that it wasn’t likely that he’d be able to sneak out of the house and never face Mabel again, he formulated some story about how he was actually dating a princess from some foreign island nation but how she had already had to go back to her home country and how, unfortunately, Mabel would never get to meet her. 

Yeah. That sounded great. 

He got dressed, not bothering to attempt to cover up the bite scar on his arm. Mabel would see it eventually, so it was better just to get it over with. 

He made his way up the stairs, running over the story one more time in his mind. He pushed open the door to his room, half-expecting to find Mabel dozing in his bed. 

And then he stepped inside and it wasn’t Mabel in his bed. 

It was Bill. 

And Mabel was still sitting at his desk. 

Dipper froze, suddenly wanting to crawl into a hole and die or at least back out of his room and retreat back down the stairs. Instead, he slowly closed the door behind him. The clicking of the door didn’t seem to bother the other two, who seemed to be locked in a heated staring contest. 

“I can explain,” Dipper said. 

Mabel turned an uncharacteristically icy stare on him. “Please do,” she dictated, her voice sickly sweet. 

“Um.” Dipper’s eyes flicked over to Bill in his panic, desperately searching for some backup, but the demon had closed his eyes and laid back in Dipper’s unmade bed, seeming content in all the world. Dipper backed up until he hit the door. Mabel’s stare didn’t falter. He sighed. 

“So, there was a fire at the Shack…” 

\-----

When Dipper finished explaining himself, every emotion possible seemed to have flickered across Mabel’s face, so fast that Dipper still wasn’t sure what she was thinking. At some point, Bill had sat up and tuned in, looking interested in the story despite being the main focal point of most of it (or maybe that was _why_ he was interested in it; he _was_ pretty conceited, after all). 

“So, basically, I had no other choice and so I’d really appreciate it if you didn’ttellGrunkleStanaboutthisthanks,” he rushed out, grinning sheepishly. 

Mabel frowned at him. “Bro-bro,” she started, and from the corner of his eye, he could see Bill trying to muffle his snickering. Dipper expected a serious lecture, based on the determined look on his twin’s face, but instead she took a deep breath and rushed out, “What would Grunkle Stan say if he knew you were canoodling with a demon?!” 

“ _Canoodling_?” Dipper repeated, face heating up. He wasn’t one hundred percent sure what that meant, but he was pretty sure Mabel had the complete wrong idea. Bill howled with laughter, probably imagining exactly what Stan’s reaction would be. It would likely involve a lot of screaming, maybe kicking Dipper out on his ass, and possibly an aneurism. 

Mabel crossed her arms over her chest. Despite the tenseness of the situation, it was hard to take his sister seriously in her bee sweater and matching yellow headband. She seemed to realize that he was belittling her in his mind and she frowned, sticking her tongue out at him. 

She got to her feet suddenly, and Dipper stiffened, wishing he had more room to back up. But instead of approaching him, she strode right over to the bed and grabbed Bill by the arm, yanking him up roughly. The demon yelped, stumbling to his feet, and his cheeks seemed to redden a bit as he realized how he had just reacted. 

“We’ll talk later,” Mabel murmured, shooting him a serious stare, “But for right now, I’m going to talk to _him_.” She glared at the demon. 

Bill grinned. “Sure, Shooting Star.” He raised his arms above his head and stretched out dramatically, like a cat after a nap. When he noticed Dipper staring, he winked, and the teen’s cheeks flushed. 

Dipper took a few steps towards them. He didn’t know if he trusted Bill with his sister, but at this point, he wasn’t exactly sure which one of them he was more worried for. “Mabel, I’m not sure that’s such a good-” 

“Why don’t you go back to sleep, Pine Tree?” Bill murmured softly, stepping towards him and running a hand through his hair. It wasn’t a suggestion. A wave of drowsiness rushed over him immediately, and while he was internally cursing Bill and his magic, he was already nodding and stumbling over to his bed. 

Before he was knocked out completely, he saw Mabel banging her fists on Bill’s chest and yelling, “Hey! Don’t use your dumb dream mumbo-jumbo on my brother without his consent!” and Bill cackling in response. 

\-----

When Dipper woke up again, he was well-rested. He hadn’t dreamt, thanks to Bill. The clock on his phone showed that it was already mid-afternoon and that he had slept most of the day away. 

He made his way downstairs to the kitchen, where Mabel and Bill must have been talking. In the back of his mind, he wondered where Grunkle Stan was. If the old man hadn’t come to wake him up yet, then Mabel must have kept to the Good-Twin Pact and not ratted him out. Yet. 

He paused in the doorway to the kitchen. His sister and his demon were sitting on opposite ends of the table, locked in yet another staring match. He wondered how long that had been going on. He’d been out for hours; how much had they talked about in that time, and how were they _still_ talking? 

Neither of them seemed to notice Dipper’s presence. It was Bill who finally broke the silence.

“Shooting Star,” the demon scoffed, as if there had never been a pause in conversation in the first place, “You couldn’t even _begin_ to imagine the connection that Pine Tree and I have. We made a _deal_ , so that means his _soul_ is bound to me.” 

Dipper blinked. 

“Dipper and I shared a _womb_ ,” Mabel deadpanned in response. “I win.” 

“Uh,” Dipper started, “Should I be concerned?” 

Mabel jumped at his voice. If Bill was surprised that he was there, he didn’t show it. 

“We were just finishing up here,” Bill said chipperly, getting up from his seat. He brushed past Dipper, just barely touching him but hitting him with a wave of dizziness all the same. He knew that Bill had stolen a bit of his energy, meaning that he was leaving. Maybe that was for the best; Dipper really needed to talk to his sister alone. 

“See you in your dreams, Pine Tree,” Bill whispered right next to his ear, sending shivers down his spine, before he was gone. 

Dipper locked eyes with his sister, who was giving him a worried stare. She didn’t look angry, but he still felt overwhelmed with guilt at the fact that he’d been hiding this from her. 

“Where’s Grunkle Stan?” he asked quietly, leaning up against the wall. There was an underlying question in there: _Did you tell?_

“I sent him to the grocery store with a shopping list for Thanksgiving dinner,” she said, then frowned. “That was a while ago. I wonder if he got lost in the store. Some of those items were pretty specific. By the way, you should be glad I’m here! Stan was totally going to just cook a frozen turkey TV dinner for you on Thursday.” 

Dipper smiled at the thought. His sister was always on top of things. 

“So,” he leaned up against the wall. This wasn’t so bad. This was his twin. Even though he had been practically keeping the _biggest secret ever_ from her for months, he’d be able to talk to her. He would. “You wanna go to Greasy’s?” 

Her eyes flickered with excitement before she seemed to remember that she was trying to be mad at him and a fake steely expression came over her face. “You’re not gonna distract me with food, Dippingsauce.” 

“Really?” Dipper raised an eyebrow, smirking. “You know, Lazy Susan would probably put sprinkles on your pancakes if you asked…” he taunted. 

She managed to hold onto her forced glare for a few solid seconds before it melted into an eager expression and she jumped up from the chair. “Fine,” she huffed. “But you’re paying.” 

\-----

He waited until they were both digging into their food before he got onto the heavy topics. Mabel was more placid when she had sugary breakfast foods. 

“So, about your magic using,” he started. She looked up from her pancakes. 

“Nope! No way, mister,” she exclaimed, shaking her head. “We can talk about that once we’re done talking about _your_ issues.” 

Part of him knew that she was just continuing to stall, but another part knew that there was no sake in arguing. 

“I don’t have any issues,” he grumbled, shoveling a forkful of scrambled eggs into his mouth and then washing them down with coffee. 

“Sure you don’t,” Mabel agreed sarcastically, “Just a demon boyfriend.”

Dipper choked on his mouthful of coffee, paling and forcing the beverage down his throat. “Wh-what?” he spluttered, eyes wide. 

Mabel looked a bit smug at the reaction, and Dipper thought back to that morning. “You’ve got the hots for Bill,” she stated matter-of-factly, as if it was common knowledge, or something. “And he probably doesn’t realize it, but he’s definitely got _something_ for you, too.” 

The words hit him like a sack of bricks. He definitely found Bill attractive, of course. But that didn’t mean anything! He had _made_ his human body, so of course he’d made it conventionally pleasing to the eye. 

And sure, maybe he _was_ getting a little attached to the demon... 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he lied. 

Mabel gave him a flat stare, raising an eyebrow. He tried to hold her stare but lost, sighing heavily and fixing his gaze on his now-unappetizing food. 

“Fine. So maybe there’s something. But I don’t know what.” 

“I do!” Mabel chirped happily. “Dip, I heard the way you talked about him before I knew it was him! You were worried about becoming friends, but the way you were panicking was definitely the sign of somebody in-like.” 

Dipper pinched the bridge of his nose. “In-like?” he echoed, squinting at her. 

“Well, yeah,” Mabel huffed. “I’m not gonna say that my brother is in _love_ with a demon. Not until he proves to be good, at least.” 

Dipper scoffed at that. “I doubt he can be ‘good,’ Mabes. That’s pretty much the opposite of what demons aim for.” 

Mabel chewed a bite of sprinkle-covered pancake thoughtfully, shrugging. When she gulped it down with a swig of chocolate milk, she mused, “You didn’t hear him talk about you, though, bro-bro. I did. And there’s definitely something there. Maybe being in a human body is giving him some humanity. Or maybe it’s just being around you.” 

Dipper didn’t know what to say. Eventually, he just grumbled, “I wish I didn’t find him attractive.” 

“Eh.” Mabel shrugged. “Even if you didn’t have feelings for him, you’d probably find him attractive. He’s sorta dreamy.” She paused, then giggled at the unintentional pun. “Heh. _Dreamy_. Anyways, I think that’s another part of the whole demon thing. They’re supposed to be charming, right? It’s useful to get humans to let their guard down.” 

That made total sense, and Dipper was ashamed that he hadn’t realized it himself. Once again, he was reminded that Mabel knew much more about the supernatural than he had previously thought she did. 

“Mabes,” he said softly. He saw recognition flash in her eyes as she steeled herself for the interrogation. “When are we going to talk about _you_?” 

Mabel set her fork down so she could bring her hands up to her hair and brush through it with her fingers nervously. “Don’t be mad at me,” she pleaded, and it made Dipper’s heart ache to hear her sounding so scared. 

“I won’t,” he promised. He wouldn’t be mad at her. He’d be mad at himself for failing to keep her out of all of this. 

“So, when we were fifteen,” Dipper flinched, remembering the Incident, “you shut me out.” 

“I wanted to-” 

“Protect me. I know.” She smiled sadly at him. “But I couldn’t just stay out of it, y’know? So I did my own research. I read your books when you were out in the woods.” She paused, looking uncertain. “And when you were at home researching, I was out in the woods.”

Dipper’s heart practically stopped. The idea of Mabel, out in the Gravity Falls woods, _alone_... 

Maybe she would have been better off if Dipper _hadn’t_ shut her out. Then at least they’d have been together. 

A glance at her scar was a sobering reminder that she wasn’t that much better off with Dipper, either, though. 

“I don’t know why you suddenly shut me out,” _That’s also my fault,_ Dipper thought, “But I wasn’t going to just stop being one half of the Mystery Twins.” She smiled, then, genuine and sunny. It made Dipper hate himself all the more intensely. 

“So we…” 

“We were still the Mystery Twins,” Mabel affirmed, “Just not together.” 

A pang of guilt hit Dipper’s chest. Years of trying to keep Mabel away from all of this, and she had gotten into it on her own. Of course she had. It was _Mabel_. He was an idiot. And an asshole. 

He didn’t even know where to start apologizing. 

\-----

Later that night, after they had gotten home and had a lengthy conversation with Grunkle Stan in which the old man announced that he’d be taking a week off from work and allowing Mabel to run the tours, Dipper made his way downstairs to his sister’s room. He’d changed into pajamas and had been trying to sleep since hours before, but his long nap during the day had left him wide-awake. He decided to go see if his twin was up for making some popcorn and having a movie night. 

He paused outside her door, about to knock, when he heard her laugh. He froze, and when he heard another familiar laugh from within the room, he threw the door open. 

Mabel was sitting on the floor, paper and colored pencils spread out around her. She looked up and smiled, surprised, when Dipper came in, saying, “Oh, hey, bro.” 

But Dipper wasn’t focused on that. Instead, he turned his glare on Bill, who was perched on Mabel’s bed like a bird and was currently poking his hand with a thumbtack that had previously been holding one of Mabel’s posters on the wall. Instead of his normal clothes, he was wearing one of Mabel’s sweaters- light blue with white clouds stitched all over. If she hadn’t made it so oversized, it never would have fit the demon. His dress shirt, vest, gloves, and bowtie were abandoned in a pile on the floor. 

Dipper was instantly filled with a rage at the idea of Bill undressing in front of his sister, and for a horrifying moment, he wasn’t sure which of the two he was angry with. 

“Hey, Pine Tree,” Bill said chipperly, pulling another tack out of the wall to stick into his hand-turned-pincushion. 

Dipper stalked forward and pulled the tacks out of the demon’s skin, ignoring his outburst of, “Hey!” and giving Mabel a pointed glare. She just smiled widely at him, pretending not to notice. 

“What the hell is going on here?” Dipper ground out, gesturing around the room. He then noticed that Bill’s shoes had also been discarded and that he was wearing a pair of Mabel’s fuzzy socks. “Why is Bill wearing your clothes?” 

“Because we’re having a sleepover and he didn’t have pajamas,” she responded easily, turning back to her drawing, as if it was the most simple thing in the world. Dipper gaped. 

“Unless you just want me to borrow some of _your_ clothes to sleep in, Sapling?” Bill interjected, grinning wickedly. 

“Okay, first of all,” Dipper whirled around to face the demon again, “You can just _summon_ pajamas if you really wanted to. Secondly,” he tossed the thumbtacks he didn’t realize he was still holding onto Mabel’s nightstand, “You don’t sleep.” 

Bill shrugged. “Details.” 

“Plus, you’re not supposed to sleep at a sleepover!” Mabel chimed in. 

“Not helping,” Dipper gritted.

“Come on, Pine Tree, don’t be like that. You can join, too,” Bill practically purred, grinning. Suddenly his fingers were wrapping around Dipper’s wrist and tugging him up onto Mabel’s bed. Not expecting it, Dipper stumbled and fell onto Bill’s lap in the most cliché, B-list-teen-movie-suggestive way ever. He practically flailed to throw himself to the other side of the bed, clutching onto the wall like a lifeline, as Bill laughed. “Oops.” 

“I hate you,” Dipper grumbled, his cheeks red. 

“You love me.” 

“Yeah.” 

The word spilled from Dipper’s mouth easily and he practically choked to add, “Yeah, _right_ ,” sarcastically, desperate to cover himself. Bill didn’t seem to notice. 

Mabel did, though. Her eyes widened at him and he frantically shook his head, begging her not to say anything. She grinned, winked, and went back to drawing. 

Holy shit. Holy _shit_. What was happening? What was _that_?

He didn’t relax after that, though the room fell into easy conversation. Mabel got along with Bill extremely well, considering she seemed to be ready to kill him this morning. She continued to sit on the floor and work on her design project for school while Dipper and Bill shared the bed (though he kept to his corner and attempted to put as much space between himself and the demon as possible). 

Bill kept shooting him weird looks, and he couldn’t help but think of Mabel’s words at the diner. _And he probably doesn’t realize it, but he’s definitely got something for you, too._

Dipper wasn’t even ready to admit that _he_ had something for _Bill_. He sure as hell didn’t expect the demon to ever admit the reverse. 

It was hours before the nerves in his stomach settled and he allowed himself to relax. Sometime around four in the morning, Mabel broke her own sleepover rules and passed out on the floor. Dipper got up long enough to tuck a pillow under her head, a blanket over her shoulders, and pull her sharpened colored pencils away from her face. 

Then, he returned to sit on the bed, this time a bit closer to Bill. Only a bit.

He told himself that he definitely wasn’t going to go to sleep, as he didn’t want to end up sleeping the entire day away again and messing up his sleeping schedule even more. But Bill’s voice had gotten lower, quieter in an attempt to not wake his sleeping sister. After a while, it started to lull Dipper into a daze, and when he finally laid on his back, halfway strewn across Bill’s lap, he closed his eyes and his head begged him to keep them closed. 

Just this once, he’d obey. 

Bill pretended to be asleep, too, but Dipper knew that he was probably just working in the mindscape with his eyes closed. As the conversation died off, Dipper found no reason to hold onto his consciousness any longer. 

And if Mabel found him in the morning holding one of Bill’s hands to his chest, he’d just blame it on his half-asleep self.


	11. Chapter Eleven

Over the next few days, Mabel and Bill got closer and closer. Dipper wasn’t exactly happy about this, mostly because with Bill now hanging around _Mabel_ , too, he was around _Dipper_ even more. 

And in close quarters, it was hard to ignore what Mabel had pointed out: he was falling for Bill.

Quite reluctantly. 

He tried to push the thoughts out of his head and focused on spending time with Mabel. While he would have expected more sleepovers, mini golf, and possibly allowing his twin to paint his nails, it seemed that Mabel was now eager to do magic training with him now that the cat was out of the bag. 

Unfortunately, magic training also meant spending more time with Bill. While Dipper still wasn’t sure why the demon had wanted to help train _him_ in the first place, he seemed even _more_ eager to have two pupils. 

After one day in the woods with him, though, it became pretty clear. He just wanted to pin the two of them against each other to see who would win.

He said so directly. “Time to see which one of the Mystery Twins is a better mage,” he teased in a sing-song voice, grinning. “Last one standing wins.” He paused, then his eyes lit up. “Y’know, in ancient times, it just wasn’t convenient to raise two babies at the same time, so they’d only keep the stronger of the two twins. This is kind of like that!”

Dipper blinked at the demon, ignoring the last comment. “Dude, I’m not going to fight my sister.” 

Bill rolled his eyes and sighed, turning to Mabel. “Shooting Star?” 

Mabel glanced at Dipper before returning her gaze to the demon. “Stop it if it gets out of hand,” she said cheerily and Dipper gaped. His sister retreated to the other side of the clearing and Bill moved off to the side with a smirk. 

“Mabel, what-” 

“Sorry, bro-bro!” Mabel grinned at him before calling out something in Latin. 

Dipper just barely had time to jump out of the way of the falling tree, swearing. 

He stared at his sister in utter shock, retreating a few steps, but tensed nonetheless, feeling magic crackling through him as an instinctual response. “Mabel, are you trying to _actually_ kill me?!” he shouted, vaulting himself on top of the fallen tree to get leverage. 

“I trust that you know what you’re doing!” she called in response. He sighed.

But his reaction time was still quick enough to cut off Mabel’s next spell mid-word, waving his hand and sending the ground around her up in flames. 

She yelped and jumped backwards, then fixed him with a playful glare. She extinguished the flames without an incantation, and pretty soon she was sending a wave of electricity towards him. 

He dodged in but fell off of the fallen tree in the process, swearing loudly. He could hear Bill snickering quietly from the shadows. 

After that, the attacks became rapid-fire. There was no turn-taking. He at first tried to go easy on Mabel, not expecting her to be on the same level as him, but after a while, it became clear that that wasn’t the case. 

Well, maybe she _wasn’t_ on the same level as him. She was better. 

By the time they were both too drained to continue, Dipper's shirt was in tatters and his hair was slightly singed. Mabel wasn't much better off; she had ditched her normal dorky attire for more combat-ready, tight clothes, which were now so dirty that Dipper doubted he'd ever see them again. Neither of them were injured too badly, but both of them would probably be bruised for a few days. 

Bill looked proud of himself when both twins were collapsing to the ground, panting. He strode over to them, his nice shoes stopping just inches away from Dipper. "Such potential," the demon mused. "While Shooting Star's summoning abilities are lackluster at best-" 

"Hey!" 

"-and Pine Tree's Latin could use some work-" 

"My Latin is _fine_ , thank you!" 

"-it's rare to have so much magic in one generation of mortals," Bill finished, ignoring their interjections. "I haven't see this since-" he broke off, and Dipper and Mabel exchanged a glance. 

"Since when?" Mabel prompted. 

Bill paused, then grinned wickedly at them. "Since another pair of troublesome twins I used to know." 

\-----

Grunkle Stan wasn't happy with the twins' physical state when they returned to the Shack, but he just sighed and grumbled that they were still running the tours even if they had broken both arms. 

Mabel fell back into the tourist-trapping business like she had never left Gravity Falls, quickly learning the new attractions Stan had scrounged up and using her charm to get customers to spend more money. She had made friends with Sidney and Connor the summer before, and that quickly resumed, as well. 

Thanksgiving came quickly enough, and with it, Dipper's week with his sister was already over halfway gone. Mabel had entered the kitchen early Thursday morning to start the cooking and had threatened both Dipper and Stan with imminent death if either of them tried to interrupt her while she was "in the cooking zone." She instead tasked Dipper with the job of setting the table, which he gladly did, relieved that he wasn't being asked to help cook. 

Wendy was back in town again, and while they had invited her to come have Thanksgiving with them, she had begrudgingly stated that she thought she should spend some time with her family. Thinking back to the sluagh incident, Dipper didn't blame her. 

As Dipper set three places at the table in the scarcely-used dining room, he thought about how lucky he was that Mabel was there. Otherwise, he probably _would_ be having a frozen turkey dinner. 

Their "dinner" was more like lunch, as they ended up eating in the early afternoon so they could finish in time for Grunkle Stan to go watch the football game. As Mabel started bringing food out to set on the table, Dipper ran upstairs to change into the _'GHOST HUNTER'_ sweater that Mabel had made him for his birthday. 

_Just to humor her,_ he told himself. 

When he got back downstairs, Grunkle Stan and Mabel had already sat down. Dipper went to take his seat across from Mabel and to Stan's left, but his hand paused on his chair. There was another plate set to his left, directly across from Stan. 

Dipper had definitely only set up three spots. 

He blinked at his sister, a sinking feeling already forming in his stomach. "Who's that spot for?" he gritted at his twin, nodding at the empty seat. 

"Oh, y'know," Mabel grinned sheepishly at him, "I invited a friend." 

Like magic ( _definitely_ magic), the doorbell rang. Dipper glared. 

"Oh, I forgot something in the kitchen!" Mabel said suddenly, leaping to her feet. Convenient. "Dippingsauce, can you get the door?" 

"Mabel-" 

"Yeesh, kid, just get the door!" Grunkle Stan hollered from his seat, a pile of mashed potatoes already on his fork. Dipper glowered and stomped over to the door. Behind him, he could hear Stan quietly grumbling, " _Getting too old for this…_ " 

Dipper threw the door open. He moved to block it immediately as Bill tried to slip past him. 

" _What_ are you doing here?" Dipper hissed in a whisper as Bill pouted. 

"Shooting Star _invited_ me, kid," Bill replied easily, normal volume. Dipper shot a panicked glance behind him. 

Bill had miraculously lost his flashy yellow-and-black clothes. Instead, he had on a white dress shirt with a sharp black suit jacket over the top. Without the triangles and the floating top hat, he could _almost_ pass for mortal- which was probably the plan today. 

"You don't even _eat_ ," Dipper snapped quietly, once again having to shift his weight to barricade the door. 

"I _can_." Bill shrugged. "Come on, Pine Tree, won't this be _fun_?" With the devilish grin and the flash of blue in the demon's eyes, Dipper felt that this would be anything but. 

Mabel was yelling for him from the dining room. "Grunkle Stan is going to kill you," he grumbled, but dropped his arm. _Or me._

"I'll be subtle," Bill assured chipperly as he pushed past. 

"You couldn't be subtle if your life depended on it. Or _my_ life, for that matter." 

Bill practically skipped to the dining room, where Mabel had already returned with the dish she had "forgotten." Stan raised an eyebrow, eyeing up the demon, but when he didn't immediately reach for a shotgun or a spellbook, Dipper considered himself lucky. 

"Grunkle Stan," Mabel said proudly, beaming and gesturing towards her 'guest,' "This is- uh-" 

Dipper ran a hand through his hair and sighed, holding back a groan. He was _so_ dead. 

"William," Bill provided easily, flashing that same devilish grin. 

Dipper's eye twitched. 

Both of the twins watched Stan expectantly, Mabel with hope and Dipper anticipating him realizing at any moment and throwing Dipper's sorry ass out on the street, but Stan just shrugged and grunted, "Nice to meet ya," before turning his attention back to his food. 

Amazingly, easy conversation flowed without issue. While any responsible guardian probably would have wanted to inquire about the strange man that Mabel had brought to dinner, Grunkle Stan didn't seem to care in the slightest. As long as Stan didn't direct any questions at Bill, then Dipper thought it would probably be fine. 

One of Bill's feet had long since tangled up with Dipper's own ankles, and as he couldn't find a way to kick him away without drawing attention to them, he just let it be. 

Like always, Mabel did most of the talking. Stan seemed content to just talk to his niece about school, so Dipper kept his attention on Bill to make sure he behaved. More than once he caught the demon trying to levitate the gravy bowl across the table.

Dipper was going to kill his sister for this. 

He had never seen Bill eat before, but the blonde went at the food like a starving man. To Dipper's understanding, Bill didn't need food because while humans got energy from feeding and sleeping, he got energy from other things. Like souls. And deals. 

And _Dipper_. 

By the time they were starting on the pumpkin pie, Bill had only been required to speak several times, and he did so with much more conviction than Dipper would have expected. He wondered if he and Mabel had gone over this before hand. When Stan finally did direct a question to Bill, sounding uncomfortable and probably just trying to be polite, it was to ask what Bill did for a living. The demon smiled, overly-charming, and just said that he was a "deal-maker." 

Stan frowned. Dipper stomped on Bill's foot from underneath the table. 

"So, Mabes," Dipper started, desperate to take the attention off of the demon, "What do you have to do for your final projects for the semester?" 

He asked merely because he knew that Mabel _didn't_ know, and she shot him a glare. With Grunkle Stan's attention turned back on her, though, she wasn't going to admit that she was clueless. Instead, she started rambling about how not knowing what she was going to do was a metaphor for artistic freedom, or something. 

"And so that's why I haven't decided what I'm doing yet," Mabel finished proudly. Grunkle Stan peered at her, a little lost. 

"Y'know, _my_ favorite artist-" Bill started. 

"Here we go," Dipper mumbled under his breath. 

"Chris Burden," he continued. Mabel paled. "He was a performance artist. Known for shock factor." 

Dipper's eyes widened, and Mabel was shooting him a panicked look from across the table. Before he could shut the demon up, though, Grunkle Stan was pressing, "What did he do?" 

Bill grinned wickedly. Dipper's blood ran cold, and Mabel was shoving a forkful of pie into her mouth and keeping her eyes averted, as if that could help her ignore whatever Bill was about to say. 

"He had several notable pieces," the demon drawled as if he was reciting the artist's Wikipedia page. "In one, he hooked his hands up to electrical wires that were right next to pitchers of water. He invited spectators into the gallery and anticipated that none of them would knock over the water." 

"And did they?" Stan pressed, leaning forward. Dipper rolled his eyes; of course his uncle was interested in a possibly-gruesome story. 

"Obviously not, as he lived long enough to risk his life in other horribly trivial ways." Bill grinned. His eyes flashed a blood red for a split moment, and Dipper hoped that Grunkle Stan's vision was bad enough that he wouldn't notice. "In another piece, he laid motionless under a giant piece of glass for a few days. He didn't get up until one of the museum staff finally interfered with the piece. That was all they needed to do to stop it, but none of them knew. He was ready to lay there until he died or someone stopped him." 

Bill continued rambling, explaining how the artist once stuffed himself into a locker for five days and another time nailed himself to the hood of his car. Mabel seemed to have retreated into her sweater like a turtle, obviously now regretting her decision to invite the demon. Dipper wanted desperately to stop him from talking, but he was prevented by a mix of a sick fascination and such shock that he couldn't form the words. 

Bill had lost the suit jacket mid-story, pushing his sleeves up to his elbows like Dipper was used to. He was still horribly overdressed in comparison to the twins' sweaters and Grunkle Stan's ratty old t-shirt and boxers. The demon leaned forward on a hand, the fingers of the other tapping rhythmically on the table.

"I have to say, though, my favorite piece of his was probably _'Shoot_.'" Dipper dug his foot further into where it was already pressing down on top of Bill's, but if the demon even noticed, he didn't react. "He had an assistant shoot him in the arm from a few feet away during an art show." He paused, then grinned at Mabel. "Maybe you should do something like that, Shooting Star." 

Silence struck the room like a cold front, and Dipper's heart stopped. Bill stilled, foot remaining motionless between Dipper's and hands freezing on the table. 

" _What_ did you just call her?" Grunkle Stan asked, voice calm but chest heaving. 

"Uh." Bill looked over to Dipper for support. The teen was already mentally writing a will. 

There was a short period of calm in which Dipper thought that maybe it would just be brushed off and they could continue on with their meal, and then Grunkle Stan stood up and sent a steak knife flying towards the demon's head. 

Bill avoided it, of course; demonic speed was useful in situations like this. He moved skillfully out of the way, also rising to his feet. Stan huffed and slammed a fist down on the table, making Dipper’s silverware jump an inch before falling back down. Mabel’s eyes were wide and afraid, and she looked conflicted about whether she should intervene or continue retreating into her sweater. 

"Christ," the old man swore, looking around for another makeshift weapon. Dipper and Mabel both subtly pulled their own knives closer to them and away from their great uncle.

Dipper rose to his feet and Mabel followed. “Grunkle Stan-” 

“Let me guess.” Stan’s voice had gotten calm, but that was almost more terrifying than his yelling. He turned to Dipper. “This is _your_ doing.” 

Dipper flinched. “Bringing him here wasn’t,” he muttered. Stan turned his stare on Mabel, whose face reddened. 

“I thought that maybe if you saw that he’s changed-” 

“ _Changed_?” Grunkle Stan repeated incredulously, cutting her off. Dipper was sure that the only reason Bill hadn’t already been maimed or banished was because Stan was so in shock that his niece and nephew would do this. “Kid, he’s a _demon_!” Grunkle Stan swore again, this time to himself, and Mabel shrunk back like a scared child. Bill was just leaning forward against the back of his chair, looking bored as he watched the family quarrel. 

“A demon, in _my_ house,” Stan grumbled to himself. 

Dipper shifted so he was maybe, just _maybe_ standing a little bit closer to Bill, ready to defend him if needed. Though he was sure the old man was fuming with anger right now, he thought that he might still be a little hesitant to kill his own nephew. 

Maybe. 

The movement wasn’t lost on Grunkle Stan, who turned his glare onto Dipper. “You’d better start explaining, kid.” 

Mabel moved to slip out of the room, presumably to find all of Grunkle Stan’s guns and _hide them_ , but without turning to look at her, Stan barked, “You too.” 

She slinked back in like a wet cat, but Dipper didn’t miss how she, too, positioned herself in a way that she’d be ready to defend Bill if needed. 

While Dipper knew that the full story would probably get him in less trouble, he also knew his great uncle well enough to know that Stan would grow antsy and impatient before Dipper could even get to justify his actions. Despite knowing that he was probably just digging his own grave for Stan to throw him in, he deadpanned, “I made a deal.” 

Stan bristled. Dipper expected more shouting, or maybe Stan grabbing him by the scruff of his neck and dragging him outside, but the man just nodded stiffly. “Go on.” 

Dipper shifted uncomfortably, feeling itchy all over. He told himself it was just the sweater, which had grown overly hot. “I…” He had just told this story to Mabel, hadn’t he? Why had it been so much easier then? 

Stan slammed a fist down on the table again, making Dipper jump and Mabel squeak in response. From the corner of his eye, Dipper could see that Bill still looked unfazed. “What was the deal _for_ , kid?” Stan ground out. 

Dipper took a deep breath. “He helped me out of a bad situation,” he simplified. 

“And you-?” 

“Pine Tree became my battery,” Bill supplied with a smirk, leaning forward on a hand. “Y’know, Stanford, it’s amazing how much energy teenage boys have.” 

Dipper knew what he meant, but he still couldn’t help but shiver at the suggestive tone in Bill’s voice, his cheeks going red instantly. 

Stan’s face went red too, but it was for another reason: rage. In half a second, he had moved around the table and barreled into Bill before Dipper could even react. 

The older man slammed a fist into Bill’s jaw. The demon didn’t even attempt to dodge the blow. While he stumbled back just a step, he quickly rocked back forward with a grin, wiping away at the blood that was quickly forming from where his sharp teeth must have pierced through his lip. 

“Not bad, Stanford,” he teased. Despite his upbeat tone, obviously not phased by the situation, his eyes had changed into a dangerous red and hadn’t turned back yet. Dipper figured it was probably just a demonic instinctual response, and hoped that he wasn’t actually planning to kill all of them. “But I think even your nephew could hit harder than that.” 

This time, Stan’s knuckles collided with Bill’s nose with a sick _crack_. When their great uncle pulled his fist away, stained in the demon’s blood, Bill’s nose was pushed to the side in a way that it _definitely_ was not supposed to be. It was obviously broken, and while Dipper knew that the demon would just heal himself later and not even be marred by the experience, he still cringed. 

He and Mabel exchanged a quick glance and intervened before Stan could try to hit Bill again. Dipper moved to shove Bill back, inadvertently putting himself between the demon and his uncle, while Mabel worked to pull Grunkle Stan away (she’d have better luck than Dipper, since Stan likely wouldn’t try to throw her off of him). 

One of Bill’s hands had come up to cover his bloody nose, blood running down his wrist and staining the cuff of his white shirt. Despite this, he still had a delighted grin on his face and a wild look in his eyes. With the demon’s hair ruffled, making him look positively unhinged, the image of him sent a wave of heat into Dipper’s lower stomach and he made a mental note to evaluate his psychological state later. 

For now, he grabbed Bill’s upper arm roughly and tugged him out of the room as Mabel argued with Grunkle Stan, trying desperately to distract him. 

“Why did you have to antagonize him?” Dipper spat quietly, reaching the front door and pulling it open (though he knew that Bill could just disappear into the mindscape from anywhere, so there wasn’t really much of a point to shoving him outside other than the fact that it was putting a barrier between him and Grunkle Stan). “Did you _want_ him to hit you?” 

“Frankly, yes.” Bill stepped outside, but turned to face Dipper, leaning on the doorframe to ensure that the teen wouldn’t slam the door in his face. Dipper still considered it nonetheless. The demon still had a huge grin on his face, looking almost intoxicated. Bloodshed seemed to get him like this, even if it was his own. “Stan and I go way back. This isn’t the first time, and it probably won’t be the last.” 

That was overly suspicious, and Dipper was about to question it, but then Bill brought a thumb up to swipe away at some of the blood on his lip and his tongue flicked out to lick the blood away. He locked eyes with Dipper, irises returning to their normal gold but eyes now half-lidded with something dark in them. 

Dipper shivered, shoved the demon back, and slammed the door. 

When he walked back into the house, the dining room was empty. He wandered into the living room, where the TV was now playing the beginning of the Thanksgiving football game. Stan had collapsed into his chair and looked older than Dipper had ever seen him. Mabel was standing off to the side, nervously tugging at the sleeves of her sweater (bright orange with a cartoonish turkey stitched on). 

Dipper stood faithfully by his sister’s side, and they watched their great uncle like he was a ticking time bomb. It seemed to be ages before Grunkle Stan spoke again, and when he did, he didn’t look at them. “Go to your rooms.” 

Dipper flinched. “Grunkle Stan, we’re _nineteen-_ ” 

“ _Go!_ ” he barked, and they didn’t attempt to argue any more. 

Unsurprisingly, Mabel didn’t go to her own room; she followed Dipper up to his, just like when they were kids. Even after splitting into separate rooms at age thirteen, they had still normally both spent most of their time in the attic. At their home in Piedmont, their rooms were divided by a single, thin wall, and for months after moving apart, they would tap popular songs on the wall back and forth to each other until they fell asleep.

They both sat on Dipper’s bed with their backs against the wall and their knees pulled up to their chests, perfectly mirroring each other’s motions. 

“I didn’t mean for that to happen,” Mabel mumbled eventually, not looking at him. She had pulled her sweater over her knees and retracted her arms into it. 

“I know,” Dipper replied. He did. He wasn’t mad, as much as he wanted to be. It was difficult to be when he knew that her intentions were good. 

“I feel so _bad_ ,” she lamented. “I mean, Bill-” 

“Bill will be fine,” Dipper sighed. “He brought it upon himself.” 

“I didn’t think Grunkle Stan would actually hit him.” 

Dipper snorted. “I think that Bill is lucky that that’s all Stan did.” 

They laughed for a moment, then sighed in unison. 

\-----

They remained in Dipper’s room until Stan called them downstairs much, _much_ later. He had seemed to have cooled off a bit and asked them, all-too-calmly, to sit down at the kitchen table. 

Dread sunk into Dipper’s stomach on instinct. He remembered far too many instances of his parents calmly asking him to sit down so they could talk during high school. It never ended well. 

“So,” Stan started. He had deep bags under his eyes, and the guilt hit Dipper like a slap in the face. “You made a deal with that demon.” 

Dipper nodded. “Yeah.” His voice was hoarse and sounded much deeper than it usually was. Under the table, his fingers were tapping at his leg rapidly, nervously, and Mabel’s hand slipped over and squeezed his in reassurance. 

Grunkle Stan sighed. His stare burned into Dipper, and the brunette squirmed uncomfortably. He felt as though Stan could see all of what Dipper had done wrong: making the deal in the first place, lying about his nightmares, befriending Bill, maybe _falling for_ Bill… 

“I don’t know what you asked for,” Stan grouched. “But it obviously wasn’t universal knowledge, if you’ve been stupid enough to continue to hang around him.” 

Dipper cringed. 

“I suppose there’s no getting out of it now,” Stan sighed, and deep inside Dipper’s head and heart, a small part of him was relieved. Stan wasn’t going to try to exorcise Bill, then. Yet. “There’s no way to get out of a deal with Bill. You either fulfill your part of the bargain or you die.” 

Mabel flinched. This wasn’t news to Dipper, though, so he just nodded, though he was questioning how Grunkle Stan knew that with such certainty. 

“I can handle him, Grunkle Stan,” Dipper reassured. He was surprised to hear how genuine it sounded flowing from his lips. “I’ve done it for four months now and haven’t gotten myself killed yet.” 

Stan frowned, probably at learning that this had been going on for that long without his knowledge. He sighed. “I don’t want him in my house again, kid, ya got that?” 

Dipper nodded, but under the table, he crossed his fingers. 

\-----

Mabel left on the bus on Saturday morning, just a week after she had arrived. 

While Dipper was sad to see her go, he was comforted by the knowledge that he’d see her again in a few weeks when they met in Piedmont for winter break. He hadn’t brought the topic up with Bill again, but he was willing to do whatever he had to in order to make it home. 

The incident on Thanksgiving hadn’t seemed to change anything with Bill, who showed up as regularly as always. His nose and lip had seemed perfectly fine the next time Dipper saw him, and he had reverted back to his normal yellow-and-black apparel. He continued to bug Dipper and drain his energy, and it was a comforting constant. 

Dipper’s relationship with Stan had gotten a little strained, though not enough that an outsider would question it. 

Work at the Shack picked up as it got closer to the holidays and people thought it would be funny to buy their relatives weird knick-knacks as gag gifts. Unfortunately, Dipper’s school work _also_ picked up, as final exams were coming up in a few weeks. He only had actual exams in three of his classes, though, and the others required strenuous projects that would go in as an exam grade. Dipper tried to get a head start and spent several hours at the library to find and check out research books. 

Over the course of the next week, he began getting less and less sleep. Half of the nights, he’d have a regular nightmare in which he or Mabel or Stan or his parents were killed. 

The other half, he’d dream of Bill, normally in overly suggestive situations that always ended with Dipper waking up achingly hard and desperate for release. 

He didn’t mention it to Bill, but when they went to practice magic in the woods, he’d try extra hard to hit the demon and feel just a bit better.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. I'd just like to note that I'm bumping the rating of this fic up to E. There's not actually any explicit content yet (though this chapter does start out with some rather steamy dream stuff, ohoho), but I've decided exactly where I'm going for the remaining chapters and the E-rated content will definitely come at some point. 
> 
> Just a warning! Thanks. Hope you enjoy.

"Bill," the teen gasped, back arching. 

The demon kissed and nipped at his neck and Dipper tensed, expecting Bill to tear into his flesh at any second, but the bite never came. Instead, the blonde continued to run his hands down Dipper's body, fingers stopping just short of where the boy wanted them, making him keen. 

"Say 'please,'" the demon teased, finally biting down a bit harder and sucking at the skin. Dipper couldn't stop the breathy moans that came out as a response. 

While Dipper normally would have argued in a futile attempt to maintain some sort of dignity, he was shaking and sweaty and _desperate_ , so he just choked out, "Ple-"

And then he woke up. 

Dipper groaned loudly in frustration, taking his pillow out from under his head and shoving it over his face, debating the pros and cons of smothering himself with it. _Of course_ it was just a dream; obviously he wasn’t having sex with _Bill Cipher_. 

_Kill me,_ he thought. He didn’t say it outloud, because then Bill might have actually shown up to do it. And that wouldn’t be a problem, but then he’d be seeing _Bill_ right now. 

Despite his anger at himself, he couldn’t stop the throbbing in his groin. He was _painfully_ turned on, and his hand was itching to move down and relieve his problem. 

_You can’t,_ he reminded himself, bunching his fingers into the bottom hem of his shirt to keep them from sneaking into his boxers. _Bill shows up at the most inconvenient times ever, so what if he were to show up now?_

That thought only seemed to fuel his more carnal side, though, and as his hand slipped into his boxers and pulled out his aching length, he told himself that he could just blame it on his sleep-muddled brain and teenage hormonal urges. 

\-----

“Whatcha workin’ on, kid?” 

Dipper’s eyes flicked up from where he was sitting in the clearing, books and papers strewn out around him. He had his laptop (the new one that had mysteriously appeared on his desk the day after his old one was destroyed, much nicer than the one that had been burned up) on his lap. 

“An essay for finals,” he muttered in response, turning his attention back to his work. He set his laptop off to the side and picked up a sheet of notes. 

“Already?” Dipper could hear the frown in the demon’s voice as he sat down across from him, just a few feet away. “Don’t you still have a few more weeks until that’s due?” 

In the back of his mind, the teen was questioning when and why Bill had bothered to learn his college schedule, but he ignored it. He was too used to Bill’s oddities to start being skeptic about it now. 

“Yeah, but I need to get a headstart. This is just for my English Composition class. I’ll still have to write papers for Creative Writing and Mythology, and then I’ll have to study for exams in my other classes. Econ and Psych should be easy, but Calculus will kick my ass.” He frowned as he spoke, flipping the sheet of paper in his hands over to read the notes on the other side. 

He glanced up to see Bill eyeing up the half-empty bag of trail mix at Dipper’s side, so he sighed and tossed it over to the demon, who caught it eagerly and beamed. After Thanksgiving, Dipper had ended up sharing his food with Bill more often than not. When he had questioned Bill about it, the demon had just scoffed about how just because he wasn’t getting any sustenance from it, didn’t mean that he couldn’t _enjoy_ it. 

Dipper resumed typing as Bill greedily finished off the remainder of the snack bag. He could only force himself to type a few words before his eyes would flick up to glance at the demon, face burning in shame at the memory of this morning. Though Bill showed no sign of it, Dipper was sure he knew. He had to. 

Dipper continued to notice the little details about the demon instead of doing his work. The way Bill’s blonde hair shone with streaks of gold in the little light peaking through the trees. The creases in his neck when he moved a certain way. The ever-present tophat that moved when he moved. The way he would pull one leg up to his chest and fold the other so one foot was resting on top of the other. 

Dipper sighed. 

He could feel Bill’s eyes on him, but he didn’t allow himself to glance up again. Through his peripheral vision, though, he could tell that Bill was picking up one of his library books and examining the cover. 

“Scientology?” Bill asked as he read the title, sounding a bit incredulous. He lowered the book to gaze at Dipper, who forced himself to keep his eyes on his screen. His hands had long-since stopped typing. 

“Yeah, my paper is about fake religions.” 

“All religions are fake religions,” Bill scoffed. 

Dipper’s eyes flitted up at that. “Aren’t demons supposed to be, like, fallen angels cast out of heaven, or something?” he tried.

Bill snorted. “It’s not as simple as Christian mythology would have you believe, kid.”

Dipper blinked at him, then decided not to push it any further. To make it look like he was working, he typed, _’It’s so damn hard to focus with him here and I am never going to get anything done ever ever ever.’_ He then hit the backspace key individually for each letter until the sentence was gone and he was back to where he left off. 

After a few minutes, he finally was able to tune out the demon’s presence and resumed working. When Dipper didn’t talk, Bill started thoughtfully humming a tune that the teen couldn’t place. It was calming, but after a while, when the birds in the surrounding trees began to chirp the same song, he once again found himself unable to concentrate. 

When Dipper’s fingers stilled and the cursor blinked next to his unfinished sentence, Bill stopped humming. He scooted closer to Dipper, and the teen sighed and set his computer off to the side again, this time shutting it. 

“I’ll never get any work done with you around, will I?” he asked, starting to sort his notes into manageable piles. 

“Nope!” Bill grinned. 

Dipper rolled his eyes, pulling one of his research journals from his bag. If he couldn’t do school work, at least he could still take notes on Bill. He learned something new from him every day. 

He frowned when Bill moved even closer to where he was just inches away, their legs nearly touching. Bill now had both of his legs bent and pulled towards his chest and rested his chin on his knees, eyeing Dipper until the boy was squirming. 

He was about to say something, but then Bill suddenly poked at an area just below Dipper’s left knee and asked, “What’s this from?” The boy had to lean forward to peer at his leg and see the scar that the demon was pointing out. 

“Bike accident,” he replied, attention quickly returning to the journal on his lap. Bill frowned, continuing to eye up Dipper’s legs. He knew that both legs were covered in small, white scars; he’d been a pretty clumsy kid, and when that was combined with hunting down supernatural creatures and fleeing from monsters, he tended to get hurt a lot. Plus, he was pretty pale, so his scars showed clearly and he knew it’d be years before they ever faded. 

“This one?” Bill asked, pointing to another. Dipper was slightly surprised to find that the demon sounded genuinely curious, as if he was a kid just now learning about a cool, unfamiliar concept. 

“Bit by a dog.” 

“And this one?” 

“Fell down the stairs, I think.” 

“How about this-” 

“Look, why do you care?” Dipper interrupted, growing a bit irritated. Bill had moved on from just poking at the little scars and was now tracing them with gloved fingertips, the touches light. Dipper didn’t like the way that the contact sent shivers down his spine. 

Bill shrugged, not offering much of an answer. Dipper frowned, then muttered, “They’re just scars. Everybody has some.” 

“I don’t,” Bill replied bemusedly. 

“Well, yeah, you’re a-” Dipper broke off, blinking at the other man. “Well, how about when you’re in a… vessel? Like, possessing somebody?” 

Bill shook his head. “Nope. I heal too quickly.”

“But shouldn’t the human body’s own senses still-” 

“Remember the forks, Pine Tree?” the demon interrupted. Dipper visibly cringed, and Bill laughed. The boy looked at his arm instinctively, though he knew of course that there were no visible marks left there after the incident all those years ago. He had never really bothered to think about it before, but that proved that what Bill was saying was true. 

“So, you’re basically still immortal, then? Even in a human body?” He gestured vaguely towards Bill’s human form. While the body wasn’t human, it was close enough to being mortal that there should be some limitations. 

He dug another book out of his bag. Bill stared at the demonology book in disdain, rolling his eyes when Dipper pulled out a pen and started writing notes in the margins. 

“ _I’m_ immortal,” Bill drawled, now sounding bored. “But this body isn’t… necessarily. It’ll heal quickly unless the injury is severe, or if I’m extremely weak. If this body was to be killed, I’d just be ejected from it with no real consequence. It wouldn’t harm me, it would just be inconvenient. It would take a lot of energy to make another body.” 

“And if you were possessing a mortal? How would your powers affect the body?” 

“Same thing.” Bill shrugged. “Just me being in the vessel would cause it to heal a lot faster and be much stronger, but it would still have all of the weaknesses of normal meatsacks.” 

Dipper scribbled that down, but when he looked up at Bill again, the demon’s eyes flashed an angry red. 

“And don’t think that you can use that against me, kid,” he sneered, tone much more severe than a moment before. _As if I would,_ Dipper thought. “As long as I’ve got you, I’ll never get that weak. I can pull as much energy from you as I want.” 

Dipper didn’t doubt it. He nodded but didn’t reply, and the mood quickly resumed to a calm, still one. 

The teen continued to read his book, despite having read it at least twice before and even after Bill rested the toes of his feet on top of Dipper’s. He frowned at a line about demons not being able to enter churches without disintegrating and he glanced up at Bill. The demon’s eyes were closed and he looked positively placid. Dipper was sure he was working in the mindscape, stirring up nightmares for day-nappers, and he smiled. 

“Hey,” Dipper started, softly so as to not startle him, and Bill’s eyes fluttered open. They shone amber in the dim light. “What do you know about-” 

He broke off mid-sentence as something rustled in the bushes around them. There was a shift in the area, and both he and Bill snapped their heads over towards the treeline, searching for the source of the noise. Both grew tense immediately, which was clue enough for Dipper to know that something was horribly wrong, but when nothing happened, he murmured, “Maybe it was just a rabbit.” 

Then the noise came again, this time closer, and they were both on their feet in a second. 

“Ready to test that magic you’ve been working so hard on?” Bill asked, voice low, as Dipper pressed his back against the other’s and eyed the treeline warily. 

“Always,” he muttered in return, hands igniting in blue flame at his sides. 

The woods went silent, all of the noise from the birds and the bugs dying off. The air seemed to leave the clearing, eerily similar to the mindscape, and Dipper could suddenly feel it. He knew what it was.

The thing that was haunting his dreams.

He whipped around, moving to stand at Bill’s side rather than back-to-back, anticipating a large monster to step out at any moment. Over the months, he had spent a lot of time fantasizing what his tormenter would look like; most of the images he conjured up in his mind were reminiscent of the creatures from his nightmares. Once or twice, he’d imagined that the monster wouldn’t have a physical body at all. 

Finally, he was going to have answers. 

He braced himself as shadows brushed along the treeline, but what stepped out of the brush was not a monster. It wasn’t huge. It didn’t have large, glistening fangs. It wasn’t on fire. 

It was human. 

This startling realization was enough to make Dipper’s concentration slip and the flames in his hand extinguish. It must have shocked Bill, too, for that split second of distraction was enough for a wave of magic, bright purple in contrast to the blue that Dipper was used to, to fly up and knock both of them back a few feet. 

Bill was back on his feet in an instant, swearing in Latin, but it was only from Dipper’s position on the ground that he realized that the man standing before them was the weird man from his college campus. The man from the Mystery Shack gift shop who had caught Dipper playing with magic. 

The man who had seemed to know Dipper all-too-well despite never having met him. 

“ _Vepnihr_ ,” Bill snarled as he eyed the man, flames erupting in his hands and spreading quickly up his arms. This alarmed Dipper enough to startle him out of his stupor and make him jump to his feet, chest still stinging a bit from the first blow.

The man- Vepnihr, Dipper presumed- laughed, stepping a few feet more into the clearing. He shook black hair out of his face, and the glowing purple of his eyes was clear even from where Dipper was standing. Looking at him like this, with the magic crackling visibly on his fingertips, it was obvious that he was a demon. 

Dipper should have seen it coming the first time he met him. 

“Bill Cipher,” the demon purred, striding forward a few more steps. Dipper tensed, his eyes flying to his bag on the ground, a few feet away. What did he have as far as weapons went? A blessed dagger? Was that it? Was his magic strong enough to take on a demon that was _actually_ trying to kill him and not just attacking him for practice? 

Could Bill take this guy?

“How long has it been, Bill?” Vepnihr continued, finally coming to a stop just a few feet away. Dipper was frozen in place. He was screaming at himself to do something, cast a spell, throw up a barrier. But even with the demon’s attention off of him, he felt paralyzed by his presence. 

“Not long enough,” Bill hissed, and then flicked his wrist up to throw the flames towards the other demon. 

Nothing happened, and there was a quick moment in which Dipper could see sheer panic cross the blonde demon’s face. 

Red light erupted around Bill for just a moment, and when it faded, there were runes outlined around the demon in a circle on the ground that had certainly _not_ been there before. Dipper jumped back instinctively, leaving Bill locked in what was clearly a Devil’s Trap. 

“Sorry, Cipher,” Vepnihr said with a grin, sounding anything but, “But I need to talk to _Dipper_ here, and I can’t have you interrupting.” 

Dipper forced himself to tear his eyes away from Bill, who was swearing up a storm and obviously hurting himself in an attempt to break the circle. His gaze landed on the other demon, whose eyes were wide, pupils blown, making him look positively mad. His face was split with a huge grin, revealing fangs much worse than the ones that sometimes made themselves obvious on Bill. 

“Who are you?” Dipper demanded, taking a defensive stance. _Remember your training. This is what you and Bill were working for._ He tried to tune out his demon’s angry calls of distress and focused on Vepnihr. 

“Oh, right.” The demon laughed, sounding slightly maniacal. This was absolutely _nothing_ like the oddly-calm man that Dipper had met. That was obviously an act, then. “My name is Vepnihr. I stake claim over these woods. You may not realize it, kid, but you and I go way back.” 

“How?” Dipper’s eyes flitted nervously over to Bill. 

“Oh, sure, just converse,” Bill called sarcastically. “Don’t fight him, or anything.” 

Dipper shook his head. He needed answers. 

Vepnihr rocked back on his heels, one hand landing on his hip. With the way he was dressed like any college student in faded jeans and a hoodie, combined his casual stance, he didn’t seem like much of a threat, but an immense power hung over the air. 

“You’re indebted to me, kid.” He grinned wickedly. 

The words resounded in Dipper’s head, playing over and over again, as he wracked his brain for what they could possibly mean. He hadn’t made a deal with any demon other than Bill, so what was Vepnihr talking about?

“I’ve never met you before,” he stated, sure. “I don’t owe you anything.” 

He expected the demon to get angry, but instead, he just shook his head with a smile. “You owe me more than you’ll ever know.” 

The crypticism fueled a bit of anger within Dipper, and his hands once again sparked with magic, ready to defend himself if needed. “Why? Why have you been doing all of this? The fire? The nightmares? It was all you, wasn’t it?” 

“Got it in one,” Vepnihr laughed. “As for _why_... I liked seeing you desperate, kid. Scared and suspicious of everybody you met. Ready to do anything to get your memories back.” He frowned at that, just for a second. “I didn’t exactly expect you to go to _Cipher_ , though…” 

“Glad to know I’m still messing up your plans, even after all these years,” Bill spit from where he was still trapped in the circle. 

Vepnihr ignored the commentary, instead choosing to move on to eyeing up Dipper like a piece of meat. Before the demon could say anything else, Dipper took the minute of distraction to send a wave of electricity towards him. 

He expected the attack to hit. They almost always did when he trained with Bill. He had the stance, the will, and the right spell. But Vepnihr deflected it like it was a crumpled up ball of paper and flicked his hand to send his own magic towards Dipper. 

_This_ attack slammed into Dipper’s side like a thousand needles, bringing him instantly to his knees as he attempted not to vomit. He swore loudly, and when he coughed, a bit of blood flew out of his mouth onto the dirt in front of him. He couldn’t get enough air into his lungs to scream. He couldn’t move his hands from where they were clutching at his side, shirt torn open and skin broken up just from one simple attack. 

Vepnihr sighed, as if this was just some minor inconvenience and not as if he had just practically _ripped Dipper’s side open_. 

“I really hoped we wouldn’t have to get into it today,” the demon lamented. He looked down at Dipper in disdain. “I suppose I’ll just have to come back for you another time, Dipper.” 

“Please,” Dipper spit, gasping through the pain but still somehow managing to hold onto a bit of sarcasm, “Take all the time you need.” 

Vepnihr laughed at that, sounding genuine. “I love that spark, kid! Keep it up.” He then turned his gaze on Bill, and though his vision that was quickly growing dark with spots, Dipper could see both demons’ eyes flashing red. Vepnihr’s voice was much lower when he growled, “And don’t think I haven’t noticed what you’re doing, Cipher. I know that you’re attempting to destroy the barrier.” 

That cryptic message was all he said before he was gone, leaving nothing in his place to indicate that he had ever been there in the first place other than Dipper’s mangled and gasping form on the ground. 

As he left, the runes on the ground faded and Bill was free to move from the trap. He began pacing back and forth instantly, completely ignoring Dipper and mumbling angrily to himself. It only took a few seconds for several trees around them to become engulfed in blue flame, and despite his state, Dipper used all his might to will them to extinguish. He didn’t need a forest fire on top of all of his other problems. 

“He hurt you,” Bill suddenly growled, his reaction overly delayed, still pacing and _still_ ignoring Dipper. The boy had now used some of his tattered shirt to press down on the wound in an attempt to stop the bleeding. This was so much worse than the crocotta bite. He couldn’t steady his breathing, and he worried he was about to go into shock. “He _hurt_ you,” the demon repeated, stopping right in front of Dipper and staring incredulously at him with still-red eyes. 

Dipper tried to force a smile through the agony. “Pain is hilarious, remember?” he joked, but the last syllable ended in a gasp as he clutched at his side. 

Bill didn’t laugh, but he also didn’t seem too concerned with helping the boy. He appeared to be much more focused on his rage, unlike anything that Dipper had ever seen from him. “Not when it was brought onto you by somebody else.”

And with that, he disappeared, just like the demon before him. And Dipper was alone. 

He was a good mile from the Shack. He’d never make it back. He’d go into shock or pass out from the bleeding long before he could even make it halfway. 

He’d have to use magic to teleport. 

He hadn’t made it up to traveling that far yet, but he’d have to try. Otherwise, he was dead. There was no knowing when Bill would be back- it wouldn’t be until he calmed down, and that might take days. And it would be a long time before Grunkle Stan would worry enough to look for him. 

_Mystery Shack,_ he told himself, concentrating and feeling the magic wash over him. _Mystery Shack._

He missed his mark by quite a few feet and ended up materializing in the front lawn of the house, but it was close enough. The familiar nausea washed over him and he screamed for Grunkle Stan as the bloodloss got to him and he fell unconscious on the grass. 

\-----

It was one hospital visit, two dozen stitches, and twelve _long_ hours before Dipper was allowed to return back to the Shack. 

According to Stan’s recount of what the doctor had said while Dipper was unconscious, he had come very close to needing a blood transfusion and even closer to needing skin grafts. They had managed to stitch him up just in time, though, but he’d probably be lightheaded and need to eat a lot of iron-heavy foods for a while. 

They asked a hundred questions, most of them just reworded repeats of the previous question, and Dipper spewed the same bullshit story about a bear attack for all of them. He knew Stan didn’t believe him for a second, but he didn’t know what to tell him. 

The hospital definitely wanted to keep him overnight to monitor his vitals, stressing that this had _definitely_ been a near-death situation, but Dipper begged his great uncle until Stan managed to talk them out of it. 

They ride to the Shack was silent, and when they got home, Dipper limped up to his bedroom immediately, one hand resting in the air right above his stitches. They would talk about it tomorrow. 

Bill was in his desk chair when he got to his room, and when he slammed the door behind himself, the demon jumped. 

There was a tense silence when Dipper gingerly sat down on the edge of his bed, kicking off his shoes. Every movement seemed to jostle his stitches and send another wave of pain through him. 

“So.” Bill seemed to have calmed down, fixing Dipper with a calculating stare.

Dipper took a deep breath. “So.” 

“You get yourself stitched up?” 

“Yeah, no thanks to you,” he spat bitterly. 

Bill didn’t look phased. “Hey, you’re alive. You have no room to be complaining.” 

“You didn’t do _anything_!” Dipper shouted. Raising his voice also involved taking deeper breaths which continued to irritate his side, so he forced himself to remain calm. “You practically left me there to die.” 

The demon sighed, resting his chin on his hands. “Kid, I was ready to tear you apart myself simply because you were the closest thing with a pulse.” 

The statement nearly sent shivers down the teen’s spine, but not for the reason that it probably should have. “That mad, huh?” he asked, grabbing his comforter from where it was bunched up against the wall and bringing it around his shoulders, cringing when the movement sent another shock of pain through him. 

Bill snorted. “That’s putting it lightly.” 

“I’m guessing you’re not old friends, then?” 

The blonde man rolled his eyes. “Not exactly, kid. He’s got a bad habit of taking what doesn’t belong to him. Any creature in those woods should know that you’re mine.” 

Dipper _did_ shiver that time, the words sending heat into his stomach and making him a bit light-headed. On the other hand, though, he bristled on instinct, wanting to argue. Instead, he asked, “How?” 

Bill gave him a flat stare, as if the answer was obvious. “Because you’re _marked_ , kid. Branded. Maybe meatsacks can’t see it, but any supernatural creature should be able to. Even humans should feel _something_ when they’re around you. Something that says ‘hands off.’ They’d think it’s just instinct, but it’s really because that mark binds you to a demon. Me.” Bill crossed one leg over the other while he talked, looking all-too-casual while Dipper was beginning to freak out and started eyeing up all of his bare skin for some kind of brand that he had somehow missed. 

Bill sighed at Dipper’s reaction, then snapped his fingers. Dipper felt something go through him, like static electricity, and then the symbols became clear on his inner right wrist. 

It looked like a tattoo, done in neat script and black ink. The symbols didn’t mean anything to Dipper- they certainly weren’t in any written language he had ever seen- so he was sure that it was written in Bill’s personal cipher. 

He stared at the mark in shock, running his fingers over it to find that it just blended in with his skin, as if it had always been there. 

Branded like cattle. Owned. Like a pet. 

He snapped his head up to glare at Bill, who didn’t look phased at all by the scenario. He was filled with anger instantly, forgetting his promise to stay calm the minute before. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?” he demanded, rising to his feet and throwing the blanket back on the bed. “I didn’t agree to let you- to let you _mark_ me!” 

Bill stood as well, probably not wanting Dipper to think he was in any way in-control. “I didn’t _have_ to tell you,” he hissed, eyes flashing the same blue as his fire. “I _own_ you, Pine Tree. I can mark you in any way I want. Be glad I didn’t make it more obvious.” 

Dipper clenched his fists at his sides, seething. He wanted to scream. He wanted to _cry_ , if only out of frustration at the situation, but he wouldn’t give Bill the satisfaction. 

Instead, he steadied his breathing, then calmly said, “Get out.” 

Whatever Bill had been expecting him to say, it obviously wasn’t that, as a brief expression of shock crossed the demon’s face before it was replaced with an angry one. “Fine,” he spat, and when he vanished, the free-hanging lightbulb on Dipper’s ceiling shattered. 

The mark vanished when Bill did, but now that Dipper knew it was there, it might as well have been bright and obvious. 

Grunkle Stan must have heard the commotion, for he yelled up the stairs for him. Dipper didn’t answer, and Stan eventually went away. 

This was just another thing on top of a million. Dipper eyed the broken bulb, wondering when his life became so fucked up. 

He didn’t bother to sweep up the glass before collapsing into bed and screaming into a pillow. He allowed sobs to shake through his body until he didn’t have the energy to do so anymore. Sleep came as a bliss.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings in this chapter for bullying and homophobic language (from one of Dipper's memories, nothing major).

Dipper was nearing forty-eight hours without sleep and he was doing fine. Perfectly _fine_. 

Sure, his head was buzzing and he hadn’t eaten anything other than the handful of caffeine pills that he had taken with his coffee, but he was _fine_. 

After his fight with Bill, he had had his worst nightmare ever. The content itself wasn’t much worse than anything else he had experienced, but he hadn’t been able to wake himself up. He was trapped in an endless loop of the same nightmare in which he stood by, motionless, as Bill ripped Mabel’s heart out. 

He knew that it wasn’t real, but when he watched it over and over again, it was hard to remind himself that the demon would never do that. 

He was sure that this was Vepnihr’s way of reassuring Dipper that he would definitely be back. He also had a sinking feeling that the demon was trying to turn him against Bill. 

Well, he didn’t need do. Dipper was still angry about the marking, and that was why he decided to force himself to stay awake. As long as he was exhausted, he didn’t have any energy to spare, and so there was no reason for Bill to swing by. 

He hadn’t seen the demon since their fight, and for that, he was glad. 

In the back of his mind, he knew that there was no logical reason why he should be doing this. He was obviously hurting himself more than he was Bill, but still, he couldn’t talk himself out of it. 

He took a cold shower to wake himself up, then gently patted his stitches dry (the doctors had told him that he had to keep the wound dry for at least forty-eight hours and then it was okay to get wet by a light spray, so this was the first time that he had been able to shower without wrapping his stomach in plastic wrap). He eyed up the wound in the mirror, trying to suck in his gut a bit and ending up hurting his side in the process. 

The wound was still red, the skin raised, but it was a lot better than it would have been without medical treatment. He only had three more days before he could return to the hospital to get the stitches removed.

For now, he had to devote his time to finishing up his schoolwork and researching Vepnihr. The demon's words about Dipper be indebted to him continued to haunt his every thought, and despite his anger, he almost wanted Bill to swing by just to provide some damn _answers_.

Bill hadn't shown up yet. Maybe he was done caring.

\-----

After three days without sleep, Dipper became desperate.

He closed his eyes tightly for just a few seconds, leaning back against his headboard, and when he opened them again, his head spun. He brushed his hair out of his face and tugged at it a bit to wake himself up some more. 

He eyed his phone warily and, after a moment of contemplation, shot Mabel a text. 

TO: Mabel  
 **do you have the recipe for Mabel Juice handy?**

His response came in the form of a phone call from his twin not thirty seconds later. The ringing of his phone initially startled him, but he smiled when the familiar picture of his sister popped up on the screen. 

"Shouldn't you be in class?" he inquired as he answered the call. 

"I'm taking a rest day!" his sister retorted, sounding serious. While taking a rest day just a few weeks before finals wasn't the best idea, he wasn't going to chastise her for it. He was just glad that she didn't press him for a more formal greeting. "And by the sounds of it, you need one, too." 

Dipper pressed a finger to his temple. He suddenly felt like this phone call was going to wear him out even more. "Okay, first of all, Mabes, nobody says, 'by the _sounds_ of it.' It's 'by the _looks_ of-'" 

"Nerd." 

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," he mumbled. 

"Seriously, though," his sister said, after a giggle, "What's up, bro-bro? You sound like you haven't slept in days!" 

"I haven't," Dipper admitted, adjusting his position on the bed. He felt the dreamcatcher tickle the back of his neck and he moved his body so as to not damage the thing.

"Dipper." He could hear the frown in her voice. "Is it Bill? Or is it the... the other guy?" 

He had told her about Vepnihr, but only briefly. His parents had gotten a call from the hospital while he got stitched up, and it hadn't taken long for Mabel to find out, too. 

But she, like Grunkle Stan, knew that it hadn't been a bear. But unlike Grunkle Stan, Dipper told her the truth. 

Vaguely.

"Both," he admitted. He forced himself to focus on a spot on the wall opposite and stared, refusing to allow his eyes to slip shut. 

"Do you need me to fly back out to Gravity Falls?" Mabel asked, completely serious. "I'll kick some demon butt for you, bro-bro! Either of them! Or both!"

Despite everything, Dipper laughed. "That's okay, Mabes. I'll see you at home in California in just a few weeks.” He sighed. “It'll be good for me to get out of here for a while, I think." 

"Are we still flying back up to Gravity Falls on the second?" 

Dipper paused, mulling it over. As neither of them started their second semesters until mid-January, they had talked about flying up to Gravity Falls together right after New Years' and finishing up their last few weeks of winter break there. Their parents hadn't been thrilled, not understanding why Dipper would want to spend his break there when he _lived_ there the rest of the year, but they knew that there was no use in arguing with the twins about something related to the sleepy Oregon town. 

"I don't know," he murmured in response, hesitant. "It might not be safe for you here." 

"It's not safe for _you_ there, broski," she retorted. "It's not really safe for anybody, is it? If what Bill said was true and the apocalypse is really coming..." 

She was right, and she knew it. In the months since Dipper had made the deal, he hadn’t forgotten about Bill’s warning. He had said that there were a lot of demons wanting to bring an end to Gravity Falls and absorb the energy, and while he was still sort of an asshole most of the time, Dipper didn’t have any reason not to believe him. 

He also hadn’t forgotten what Vepnihr had said in the woods right before he left. He accused Bill of trying to break down some sort of barrier. Dipper didn’t know what he was talking about, but he had a sinking feeling that he was talking about the thing keeping Bill bound to Gravity Falls. 

If Bill really _was_ trapped here, then how was he planning to get out? Was that what he was using Dipper’s energy for? And what would happen when he was able to leave?

Dipper thought of the prospect of never seeing the demon again, and though he was angry with him at the moment, it made his chest hurt. 

He didn't want to talk about Bill, and he told her as much. She changed the subject after there, instead just lecturing him about eating and sleeping properly. When they got off the phone a few minutes later, she texted him the recipe for Mabel Juice, and he went to make some, plastic dinosaurs excluded. 

He was glad that Stan was working and that the kitchen was empty. His great uncle had given him the week off of work so that he could rest and heal, and he was grateful. The old man had also wanted him to stay home from school, but Dipper couldn't miss that much class this close to the end of the semester.

Being trapped inside and unable to go out and hunt mysteries was maddening enough as-is.

When Dipper had whipped up Mabel's favorite concoction, he filled the blender with soap and water and set it in the sink to be dealt with later. He retreated back up the stairs with his drink. 

He barely had time to set it on his desk before something slammed into the back of his head and he saw stars as his body hit the floor and he lost consciousness. 

\-----

He was in the mindscape. 

Not his usual phase-in spot, either. He was in the manor, but he couldn't remember trying to enter the mindscape before he went to sleep. 

It took him a moment to remember that he hadn't _gone_ to sleep. He had been knocked out. 

Dipper stalked down the hallway. A loose memory floated by, a cupboard-sized door, and Dipper swatted it away. Lanterns on the walls lit up as he walked by. "Bill!" he shouted angrily. 

The demon appeared out of nowhere, as expected, leaning up against the wall. His eyes glowed red in the dim lighting. "Pine Tree," he replied, no hint of emotion in his voice. 

"You can't just knock me out!" the teen yelled, coming to a stop a few feet in front of the other and folding his arms over his chest, huffing in frustration.

"On the contrary, I can." Bill stood up straight, one hand on a hip. "Y'know, kid, I thought you were brighter than this. I didn't think I'd have to spell it out for you that defying me isn't going to work out too well for you." 

"I don't belong to you," Dipper hissed, his hands falling into his sides to ball into fists. 

Bill laughed at that, but the sound was bitter, angry, not joyous. "You kinda do, kid. You relinquished everything to me to get your precious work back. Mind, body, and soul. You should be lucky that I'm this nice to you." He strode forward and Dipper stood his ground, even when the demon reached out and grabbed his chin in a too-tight grip. "I can do _whatever I want_ to you, _Dipper_ , and you can't stop me. You're contractually bound to allow me to do what I wish." 

Dipper stepped back then, and Bill's eyes flashed back to their normal amber for just a second before returning to red. "Fuck you," he snapped.

"You wish," the demon snarled in response. 

While Bill's words had been full of venom and obviously serious, a surprised laugh bubbled from Dipper's lips as he thought about how _juvenile_ the retort had sounded. That only served to make Bill think that the teen was laughing at him, though, and anger spread across his face. 

"Let's have a look at some of your memories, why don't we?" Bill murmured with a sudden evil grin, turning and striding down the hallway with quick steps. 

It took Dipper a second to realize what was happening before he was jogging after the demon. "What the hell, man? No!"

Bill stopped in front of the door labeled _'DO NOT OPEN!!!'_. He waved a hand and the locks on the door shattered like thin glass. A twinge of pain shot through Dipper's head. 

"Actually, _yes_ ," Bill seethed. "I'm going to prove to you that I can do whatever I please, and that includes within the confines of your mind." 

The demon snapped his fingers, and Dipper found himself unable to speak. He moved his mouth but no sound came out. When Bill let himself into the hallway of memories, Dipper was right behind him. He grasped onto the demon's tailcoat, trying desperately to hold him back, but Bill just pulled him along as if it was nothing. 

Bill chose a memory at random, throwing the door open and pulling Dipper up next to him to make sure he witnessed this torment.

In retrospect, the memory wasn't the worst one that Bill could have chosen. Still, it wasn't a great moment for Dipper, and he'd rather the demon not see it. 

In the memory, a sixteen-year-old Dipper was sitting on the steps outside of his high school. Mabel had had to stay after school after her last-hour art class to help clean up, and Dipper was waiting for her. This was before they had gotten their driver's licenses, so they still walked home. 

It had been a nice day. Dipper was reading a book about faeries. 

It had all been fine until a group of six boys in his grade exited the school. They were talking, laughing about something, but when one of them spotted Dipper, he shushed the other ones and pointed at the boy, laughing and mumbling something. 

They all roared with laughter at whatever joke the boy had made. Dipper couldn't remember what it was, or if the sixteen-year-old him had even heard it. Memory Dipper didn't look up at them, telling himself that if he ignored them, they'd go away. 

But they didn't. In high school, Dipper had realized that the stuff that adults said about bullies stopping if their actions didn't provoke a reaction was all _bullshit_. If they didn't get a reaction, they'd keep going until they did. 

One of the boys, who seemed to be the leader of the group, waltzed down the remaining steps and walked over to stand in front of Dipper, who still didn't look up despite being overly aware of their presence. 

"Hey, faggot," the boy spit. 

Memory Dipper looked up at that, then sighed heavily. "Is that really the best insult you can come up with?" he asked with heavy sarcasm. Nineteen-year-old Dipper was mentally facepalming at his younger self.

The bully puffed up, seeming to have to take a second to understand Dipper's sarcasm. When he did, though, he ripped the book from Dipper's hands and threw it over his shoulder. He grabbed the front of the smaller teen's shirt with both fists and yanked Dipper to his feet. 

"What the _fuck _did you just say to me, faggot?" he demanded, getting in Dipper's face. His buddies off to the side were watching the scene with grins.__

__Younger Dipper hardly even seemed phased, though modern-day Dipper was sure that he was just hiding how terrified he actually was._ _

__"I was just saying," the sixteen-year-old drawled, sounding bored, "that maybe you should take some of that money that your family obviously has and buy some better insults."_ _

__The bully's fist collided with Dipper's face. The boy had anticipated it, and used the moment where one hand left his shirt collar to twist in the boy's grasp and jab his elbow up into the bully's chin._ _

__The guy yelped in pain. It hadn't been much of a retaliation hit, considering that there was now blood rushing down Dipper's face from his nose, but it had the desired effect: he let Dipper go in his shock._ _

__The teen didn't hesitate to run, his Converse hitting the pavement and clearing ten feet faster than he ever had. Unfortunately, while the main bully was temporarily incapacitated, his goons certainly were not, and quickly enough Dipper had five football players tackling him to the ground._ _

__The memory got fuzzy after that. It flickered as the younger Dipper cried out in pain as the guys slammed their feet into his ribs and face until he was covered in blood._ _

__He'd later go to the hospital with two broken ribs and, eventually, he and Mabel would transfer schools._ _

__The last thing in the memory was the main bully looming over Dipper and calling out, "Looks like your sister isn't coming to save you, Pines," before he slammed his foot down on Dipper's head and the boy fell unconscious, thus ending the memory._ _

__The door to the memory slammed shut. Dipper felt himself regain the ability to speak, but he remained silent, eyeing up Bill, who was uncharacteristically commentless._ _

__"I should find this hilarious," Bill said eventually, more to himself than to Dipper, then quietly, "Why don't I find this hilarious?"_ _

__Dipper tried to bite his tongue, but he was still fuming from their fight and from the fact that Bill had intruded on such an obviously private memory. "Because you _care_ ," he bit, more viciously than he had intended. _ _

__He regretted it the moment it left his mouth. He kept forgetting who Bill was. He'd become too trusting. Plus, he was certain that even if Bill _wasn't_ an all-powerful demon, he'd be able to physically overpower Dipper in a heartbeat. Dipper almost wished for Bill's triangle form again so that he didn't have to experience what he knew was about to happen. _ _

__Bill let the comment slide for a whole second before Dipper was being grabbed by his hair, dragged out of the private memory hall, and slammed face-first against the wall of his manor's main hallway. Bill held his hair back with one hand and pinned Dipper's wrists above his head with the other. There was nothing sensual about it, even when Dipper's throat betrayed him and let out a pained whimper as Bill leaned close to his ear._ _

__"Don't mistake this for something it's not, you _brat_ ," he growled, and not for the first time, Dipper genuinely worried for his life. _ _

__Dipper didn't know when Bill had removed the leather gloves, but suddenly he was all-too-aware of claw-like nails digging into his wrists and dragging down. He bit his lip and winced as he felt beads of blood well up. "I don't care about _you_ ," the demon snarled, "But I worry about my _stuff._ " With the last word, he let go, and Dipper collapsed to the floor. Bill kicked him once in the side- too close to where his stitches were in the waking world- and muttered, "You should be grateful that I've let you live this long." _ _

__By the time he got his breathing in check and looked up, Bill was gone._ _

__When Dipper pulled himself out of his mindscape, his shirt was soaked through in a cold sweat. His head ached, making him feel like he had been hit by a truck._ _

__There were harsh, raised scratches on his arms that hurt to touch, and that scared him. Bill must be getting stronger if he was able to hurt Dipper from within the mindscape._ _

__Despite the pain, Dipper felt more energized than ever before._ _

__\-----_ _

__A few days later, Dipper drove himself back to the hospital to get his stitches taken out. It was more of a hassle than anything else, but as Grunkle Stan had threatened his life if he tried to remove them himself, he had to go._ _

__He had resumed sleeping after the incident with Bill. He still had nightmares, but with his constant exhaustion, even Vepnihr’s worst couldn't keep him from getting at least a little shut-eye._ _

__Bill had come back and continued to hang around Dipper as if nothing had happened. They didn't mention any of it again, and both seemed to move on from it, but things still weren't the same. Conversation didn't flow as naturally as it had been for months now. Bill stopped playfully bothering Dipper while he was working and spent more time just watching on silently._ _

__On the bright side, Dipper now had two of his three finals papers written._ _

__The nurse at the hospital tried to make polite conversation with him while she cut his stitches out, but Dipper couldn't offer much in return. Laying on his good side on a cold table, shirtless, left him uncomfortable and overly exposed. He could tell that she was eyeing up the scar from the crocotta attack and the scratches that Bill had left and wanted to ask, and he was relieved when she was done and he could put his shirt back on and hurry out._ _

__He kept his head down in the elevator and all the way into the lobby, pretending to be checking his texts. The hospital smell made him nauseous and he couldn't bare the idea of making eye contact with some of the people here._ _

__He didn't look up until he nearly ran into a woman in a white sweater-dress, but when his eyes flicked up, he saw that it was none other than Pacifica Northwest._ _

__"Oh," Dipper mumbled, stepping back. The girl also stepped back, her eyes widening a bit when she realized that it was Dipper. Her eyes flicked judgmentally up and down, eyeing him up._ _

__"Pacifica."_ _

__"Dipper."_ _

__He and Pacifica had grown to be- well, not exactly _friends_ , but maybe _acquaintances_ \- over the years. More like she was friends with Mabel and Dipper spent a lot of time with Mabel. He didn't have a problem with her, especially knowing that she made his sister happy, but he certainly hadn't spoken to her since she had left to study abroad for the semester. _ _

__"How's, uh," Dipper wracked his brain for where she had been attending school, and when he couldn't think of the place, he just forced out, "Europe?"_ _

__"It's good," she replied simply, pursing her lips and not supplying a specific city or country. "You've been attending college in Gravity Falls, then?"_ _

__It was all formality. He knew that she still kept in constant contact with Mabel, so news of his life shouldn't come as any sort of surprise to her. Still, he gave a polite smile and said, "Yeah. English and Folklore."_ _

__The tiniest hint of a smile quirked at the edges of her lips. “Well, you’re certainly in the right place for that.”_ _

__Dipper smiled genuinely at that. “Yeah.” He flicked his eyes up and down her form, realizing that she was holding a cup of coffee and that she had probably only left whatever she was doing here to go get it. “Oh, uh, are you-?”_ _

__“I’m visiting a friend,” she supplied. “She just had a baby.” A small smile formed on her face at that. “What are you here for?”_ _

__Dipper shifted uncomfortably. “I, uh… just got some stitches out.”_ _

__A brief expression of shock flashed across Pacifica’s face before she hid it behind her normally cool exterior. “Did you- uh… I mean, what happened?”_ _

__“Bear attack,” Dipper lied. He knew it was a poor excuse, but he didn’t expect her to believe it, anyways. She knew him and his family far too well._ _

__Her eyes showed that she didn’t believe it for a second, but she nodded and said, “Right.”_ _

__Noticing the girl’s eyes flicking over to somewhere behind him and her stance shifting uncomfortably, he blurted, “Oh, sorry. I don’t want to keep you waiting. It was good seeing you.”_ _

__“Yeah, you too.” She offered a smile, but it was more polite than anything else. She took a step to walk away, then stilled. “Oh, hey. Are you and Mabel going to be in town for New Years’ Eve?”_ _

__Dipper frowned, rocking back on his heels. This again. “We were planning on flying in right after, actually. Hoping to avoid the holiday crowd.”_ _

__“Oh.” It wasn’t obvious, but a tiny bit of disappointment showed in the blonde’s eyes. “My family’s having a party that night. I’ll be flying back to school a few days afterwards, so I thought it’d be a good opportunity to see Mabel. But that’s alright.”_ _

__Dipper ignored the statement about it being an opportunity to see _Mabel_ and nothing about him whatsoever, and before the girl could move to walk away again, he rushed out, “Well, I’m sure Mabel would like to do that, so we can probably fly in a bit early and make it.” _ _

__The girl smiled at that, then dug in her purse to pull out two invitations sealed in lavender envelopes. Dipper didn’t question why she had them on her and just tucked them into his messenger bag._ _

__“You each get a plus-one,” the girl added as he shut his bag. “I hope to see you there.”_ _

__Dipper thanked her and they said their stiff farewells. He pulled out his phone to text Mabel that she needed to start booking their flights._ _

__As he drove home, he started to wonder who Mabel was going to bring as her plus-one. She could find a date in a heartbeat- though Dipper might have to check them out first to make sure they weren’t a supernatural creature planning to take her hostage. After a while, he realized that he should probably start thinking about who to bring as _his_ plus-one, as well. It would be pretty sad of him to show up without a date to a New Years’ party. _ _

__He sighed. Maybe it was time to start making up with Bill._ _


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Dipper made it through finals week in a mixture of hell and coffee. Vepnihr had vamped up the nightmares, trying to deprive him of sleep when he needed it most. Well, it worked. Dipper hoped the bastard was having a good laugh.

On the night after all of his finals were over, his last night in Gravity Falls for a few weeks, he sat at his desk and repeatedly refreshed the internet on his laptop to see his grades. 

Other than Calculus, all of his grades had been entered. He ended with an A in each of his classes except Economics, in which he ended the semester with a B. That was still really good, though, and he was sure his parents would be happy. 

Calculus, though…

The old man still hadn’t put in the grades, and Dipper had been eyeing up the website for hours. The exam itself hadn’t been too hard- actually, it had been _too_ easy, and that was what made Dipper sure he failed the test and, subsequently, the class. 

His parents would _not_ be happy to have to pay for him to retake his first semester of Calculus. 

He forced himself to look away from his computer and took another drink of his coffee. Running on one or two hours of sleep a night for the past week, it was difficult to keep his eyes from slipping shut. And he was never able to sleep on planes, so the flight home in the morning was going to be _hell_.

He refreshed the page again, and miraculously, the exam grade was in. 

Dipper’s face fell when he saw that he had scored a high D- sure, it was better than he had expected, but somewhere deep inside, he had been subconsciously hoping that he had done much better than anticipated. 

And then he noticed that it had only dropped his grade in the class to a low C, meaning he passed. 

He _passed_!

Dipper threw his arms up triumphantly in a Mabel-esque gesture and yelled an embarrassingly loud, “Woohoo!” 

He was fumbling for his phone to text his sister and his mom the good news when he felt the air shift around him. He didn’t turn to face Bill even as the demon mused, “You’re awfully chipper tonight.” 

Dipper tensed, the excited atmosphere draining from the room almost instantly. Despite his best efforts, he hadn’t been able to mend things between he and Bill to the point where they were back to normal. Things were still awkward. Not _bad_ , but… not good. 

“Passed my Calculus class,” he replied as he swivelled around in his chair, forcing a smile. 

Bill gave him a pensive look, his expression hard to place. “Good for you, kid,” he replied eventually. He didn’t move from his position, leaning up against the door, but his eyes fell to Dipper’s packed suitcase.

Dipper eyed the bag as well, fingers clutching nervously at his sweatpants as he tried to think of what to say. 

He opened his mouth to speak, but Bill cut him off with, “So, you’re leaving.” 

Dipper swallowed. “Yeah.” An unspoken question hung in the air: _are you going to try and stop me?_

Bill nodded. He already knew. Dipper hadn’t brought it up directly, but when he’d been booking his plane ticket a few weeks before and the demon had inquired as to what he was doing, he’d been upfront about it. 

Bill’s silent answer was also clear. _No._

The demon shifted his weight to the opposite foot, slipping one hand into the pocket of his dress pants. His amber eyes burned into Dipper. 

“Do you think it’ll be safe for me in California?” the teen blurted. The words hadn’t actually been what he meant, and he was sure Bill knew it. _Do you think I’ll be safe when you’re not with me?_

He didn’t exactly expect reassurance, and Bill didn’t offer it. “I don’t know,” the demon replied honestly. “To my knowledge, Vepnihr’s powers shouldn’t be able to extend beyond the limits of Gravity Falls.” 

“Like yours,” Dipper replied quietly. A dark look flashed over Bill’s face, and Dipper wondered if that was the wrong thing to say. 

“Don’t sound so cheeky,” Bill replied, eyes flashing red. He crossed one foot over the other. “The second you leave Gravity Falls, you’re on your own. I can’t help you.” The underlying tone of frustration in his voice was obvious. 

For some reason, that broke the teen. “Is that really such a problem?” Dipper asked, the words spilling bitterly from his mouth before he could stop them. “I mean, then I’m out of your hair. You don’t have to concern yourself with protecting me.” 

Bill took a deep breath, and for just a moment, the walls around them shook. When the demon opened his eyes again, they were red. “Stop with the woe-is-me bullshit, Pine Tree,” Bill spit, and Dipper flinched. “Do you have _any idea_ how much I hate allowing you out of my sight for that long?” Dipper couldn’t help but shiver at the possessive look that came over Bill’s face. “Vepnihr is just waiting for the perfect moment to steal you away, and he knows that his best chance will be once you’re out of this town. When you make it past the boundary, our contract is practically null and void until you come back. You’re not bound to me, and therefore I can’t stake claim over you.” 

Dipper nodded shakily, and when he stood up, Bill’s eyes faded back to their normal gold. “Well, if he can’t leave Gravity Falls, then why-” 

“That doesn’t mean he can’t send something after you that _can_ ,” Bill interrupted. He took a quick step towards Dipper, and when the boy flinched on instinct, he froze. His angry expression melted into something softer, more human, and something flashed in his eyes that Dipper couldn’t read. 

Dipper couldn’t stand it anymore. He took a wobbly breath. “Bill, when are we gonna talk about… about this?” He gestured vaguely between the two of them. 

He hated that it sounded like they were in a relationship, or something. Mabel would have been over the moon.

The guarded look returned to Bill’s face, making him unreadable. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, kid,” he muttered. He didn’t make eye contact. 

Then, it hit Dipper: did Bill feel _bad_ about hurting him? Or about invading on his memories? 

It would explain the tension, the way that Bill had detached himself. He didn’t make as many jokes. He stopped insulting Dipper. He kept to himself in a manner that was completely opposite of his normally obnoxiously loud demeanor. 

Mabel’s words rang in his ears: _Maybe he’s gaining some humanity by hanging around you._

“Bill-” 

“Get some sleep, kid,” Bill muttered. He moved like he was going to leave, and Dipper’s hand shot out and grabbed his arm, making him stumble forward. 

Bill blinked at him in surprise and he choked out, “Will you stay tonight?” 

Bill frowned as he turned back around slowly, giving him a confused look that couldn’t have looked more out of place on his face. “What?”

Dipper ignored the burning of his cheeks, latching onto this second of confidence to mumble, “I haven’t been sleeping well, and I know you can keep the nightmares away. I just… I thought that if you stayed with me, then I’d-”

“Sure, kid.” 

Dipper sighed. “It’s fine. I know you’ve got places to-” He broke off, blinking at the demon. “Wait, what?” 

Bill snickered, already pulling off his gloves and throwing them onto the floor, quickly following them with his bowtie, hat, and vest. “I said sure thing, Pine Tree. I’ll sleep with you.” He grinned, even as Dipper’s face heated up and he spluttered something incomprehensible. 

He wasn’t given much time to argue, though, as Bill had already finished stripping down to just pants and his black dress shirt, top few buttons undone, and was moving to flip the lights off. Dipper fumbled for his desk in the dark and tossed his glasses onto it before sliding under the covers of his bed and attempting to hide his burning face. Could Bill see in the dark to know how embarrassed he was?

 _He doesn’t need to,_ Dipper reminded himself. _You’re painfully obvious._

The bed creaked and dipped with the demon’s weight, and Dipper really hadn’t realized how small his twin-sized bed was until there was another person in it with him. Bill settled back, also slipping underneath the sheets, and Dipper tried desperately to press himself up against the wall and leave some room for the blonde. 

Oh god, _why_ had he thought this was a good idea?

There was a tense moment where Dipper held his breath in fear that if he moved even slightly, he’d brush awkwardly up against Bill, before the demon sighed and grabbed Dipper’s arm, yanking him closer. Dipper squeaked a bit as Bill snaked an arm around his shoulders, forcing his head against the demon’s chest as one of Bill’s hands landed in his hair. He was forced to relax as Bill held him there, chest slowly rising with his breathing. This close, Dipper could hear a heart beating much more rapidly than a regular human’s would. 

“Go to sleep, kid,” Bill murmured. Dipper couldn’t help but crane his neck to look up, confirming his suspicions that the demon’s amber eyes were open and burning into him through the darkness. 

The teen squirmed a bit to readjust and become more comfortable, knowing there was no use in trying to move away now. He moved so he could rest his head face-first against Bill's chest, and when his breath hit the demon's neck, he swore he could feel Bill shiver. He brought one hand up to clutch Bill's shirt as his eyes dipped closed, and the demon's hand resumed carding through his hair. 

This. This was what had been missing.

"Hey, Bill," he murmured, voice muffled by the expensive-feeling fabric of the man's shirt. The demon tugged at a tangle in Dipper's hair to get it out, and he tried to ignore the shiver that immediately went down his spine. Bill made a noise of recognition. "You wanna go to a New Years party with me when I get back?" 

He expected Bill to laugh or at least be hesitant, but he didn't miss a beat before responded, "Sure." 

But then he quickly tacked on, "I'll be your date, Pine Tree." 

Dipper’s muffled protests were drowned out by Bill’s loud cackling, shaking the teen’s form at the laughter resounded through the demon’s chest. “Plus-one,” he mumbled when Bill finally quieted down. 

“Whatever you say, kid,” Bill chuckled against his head, bringing his free arm up to circle Dipper’s waist while his other hand continued its movement in his hair. 

While Dipper was sure that Bill was only doing this because the physical contact made it easier for him to siphon Dipper’s energy, he couldn’t help but appreciate how nice it felt. 

He couldn’t believe that he was practically _cuddling_ with a demon and letting his guard down to the point where his eyes were already threatening to slip shut. How had he come this far, from a scared twelve-year-old kid who made a bad deal to a slightly-less-scared nineteen-year-old who made an even worse deal? 

When had he become so fond of Bill? 

And to think that it all started because Vepnihr began tormenting him for whatever reason, locking up his memories and destroying his research. Dipper had made the deal in the first place because he couldn’t bare to lose the Journal, but thinking about that book now, he cringed at the thought of what the Author would think of him. 

The Journal made it clear that Bill couldn’t be trusted, but Dipper was lying in bed with him and feeling more safe than ever. 

“Hey Bill.” Once again, the demon didn’t answer, but made a humming noise to indicate that he was listening. “About the Author…” 

He couldn’t see Bill’s face, but he could hear the scowl in his voice. “Not this again, Pine Tree.” 

Sure, maybe he had brought it up a handful of times, and each time, Bill had shot down his questions before he could even finish them. But this was different.

“No! Not that,” Dipper protested, lifting his face up a bit from Bill’s chest to peer at his face. His eyes were shut now, and he didn’t open them even though he could surely feel Dipper’s gaze on him. “I just… it’s…” He took a deep breath. “What was he like?” 

Bill mulled over it for a moment, and Dipper wondered if he was contemplating what was too much to say. “You remind me of him, sometimes,” the demon finally said, sounding a bit forced. “... More than I’d like to admit.” 

“Does that scare you?” Dipper asked quietly, and Bill scoffed but otherwise didn’t say anything. Dipper imagined his response would be something like, _’I’m a_ demon, _Pine Tree, nothing scares me_ ,’ but he pressed on with, “Does it?”

It was a while before Bill answered. “In ways you wouldn’t understand,” he said eventually. 

Dipper decided to leave it at that. 

\-----

When he woke up in the morning, Bill was gone. 

Dipper felt more rested than he had in months, but even after his alarm went off, he struggled to get out of bed. He actually fell halfway back to sleep for about ten minutes before he remembered that he had a flight to catch, so he ended up having to rush to get ready to go. 

He almost missed the note on his desk. 

On a yellow sticky note taken from a stack somewhere within one of Dipper’s desk drawers was written in neat script, _‘Wear this. Stay safe.’_ Next to the note was a simple silver chain with a small triangle pendant dangling from it. 

Dipper lifted the chain and eyed it up, realizing that it was likely real silver- meaning that it would be good for protection. He slipped it on, grateful that the chain was long enough to fall beneath his shirt and therefore not draw any attention to it, and smiled.

\-----

When Dipper arrived home in Piedmont, the coddling began. 

His mom hugged him tightly and fretted over him immediately upon picking him up at the airport, inspecting him for any more injuries that she hadn’t previously known about. After he had had to get stitches, she had become far more protective, even going as far as trying to talk him into switching colleges to one in California. 

He knew that she had talked to Grunkle Stan about it, and he had never been more grateful for his uncle’s amazing abilities to lie and persuade. 

His father also gave him a quick one-armed embrace, grabbing Dipper’s suitcase despite the teen’s protests that he could carry it himself. 

Mabel wouldn’t be arriving home until that night, taking the train from her school to Piedmont, so his parents took him out for a nice lunch before they headed back to the house. They drilled him with questions from the moment the car doors were shut, asking him about the ‘bear attack’ and what he was doing in the woods and how he got away with only one minor injury and how he got back to the Shack by himself. 

He had already spun the story in his head, having told it to the doctors and the police and the forest rangers. The tale about having single-handedly fought off a grizzly without a weapon sounded just as implausible as Grunkle Stan having claimed to have punched a pterodactyl, but his parents ate it up. They _ooh_ ed and _ahh_ ed in all the right places, and Dipper didn’t even really feel bad for lying. 

Dipper loved his parents. He really did. But their kind of gullibility would have gotten them killed in Gravity Falls. 

He managed to eventually switch the conversation over to school, telling them about the high grades he had ended with in most of his classes. They were overjoyed, and when his mom started to ask if he was sure if he wanted to continue his schooling there, his dad cut her off by saying that Dipper seemed to be doing just fine in Gravity Falls. 

He grinned. His mom shifted uncomfortably from the passenger seat, and then looked over her shoulder and asked Dipper if he had met any cute girls in an obvious topic-changing manner. 

He locked eyes with his dad in the rearview mirror, silently begging his father to get him out of this one, as well, but the older man just shrugged in a _sorry-you’re-on-your-own_ gesture. 

“Not any girls,” he muttered, pulling out his phone and pretending to respond to a text. 

“Boys, then?” his mom responded easily. His eyes flicked up to her for a brief moment, looking for the trick, but her face was the same as when she had asked about girls. 

“Kinda. I guess,” Dipper mumbled. 

“Well, good for you, son,” his dad said, a smile quirking at his lips.

His mom looked like she wanted to press for more details, but instead she just smiled at him and returned to sitting forward in her seat. 

Dipper’s hand came up to mess with the chain touching the back of his neck. He was suddenly grateful that Bill couldn’t keep an eye on him beyond Gravity Falls. 

\-----

When Mabel got home, his parents tried to resume some of the normality that had once taken place in their household. Unfortunately, he and Mabel had changed. 

They weren’t ready to sit down on the couch in the family room and watch movies with their parents. The constant meals-out trend that their mom had seemed to have jumped on made them squirm with discomfort, both feeling much more content within the walls of their own home. 

It was just weird to be in the presence of their mom and dad after not seeing them for months. They couldn’t even begin to understand any of what had happened in Gravity Falls, and so it was just easier to talk to them as little as possible. 

It hurt, but it was for the best. 

Dipper was glad that he and Mabel had told their parents early on in the semester that they didn’t really want to celebrate Hanukkah this year. They had known even back in September that by the time they made it home for winter break, they would just want to rest and not worry about keeping up traditions. They dad had been hesitant, but eventually, their parents had respected their decisions and didn’t even bring it up now that they were home for break.

He and Mabel fell back into semi-normalcy, spending most of their time in Dipper’s room pouring over demonology books. Dipper didn’t expect that they’d find anything new, as he hadn’t done much other than research since the confrontation with Vepnihr, but Mabel wanted to look for herself. 

In the end, they didn’t find anything that they hadn’t already known, and it just resulted in more questions than answers. 

Dipper didn’t want to bring his sister down with the looming inevitability of a demon coming to kill him or steal his soul or kidnap him or whatever, so he tried to encourage that they do more activities that she liked. She wanted to practice drawing portraits for school, so he sat still for hours while she sketched him only to find out that she had gotten bored and drawn him with a surplus of tattoos and piercings and facial hair. He grimaced at the image while Mabel laughed her ass off. 

On a day that his parents were at work, they drove out to the big mall a short drive from their house to shop for clothes for Pacifica’s party. Dipper had originally thought that the dress pants and nice shirt that he owned would suffice, but Mabel had scoffed and rolled her eyes and dragged him into Men’s Warehouse to try on tuxes. 

It ended up being a two-hour-long grueling process in which he tried on three times as many rejects as he did possible contenders. In the end, after shooting down all of Mabel’s picks of bright, flashy suits, he ended up with a simple black tux. The shopgirl had frowned at his thin form and ended up having to dig in the back for a while to find a jacket that fit him properly without having to be tailored, but in the end, it worked out. 

When she asked what he wanted his accent color to be, he said yellow without hesitation, and Mabel raised an eyebrow. 

“Bill’s my plus-one,” he reminded her quietly as the girl went to find the proper-colored accessories. “I can’t see him wearing any color but, and he’d throw a fit if I didn’t coordinate my colors with him.” But god, he hoped that the demon was sensible enough to accent with yellow and not try to sport a full-on yellow suit, or something.

Mabel grinned at him. He rolled his eyes. 

“Who’s _your_ plus-one, anyways?” he inquired, taking the attention off himself before she could make any jabs about Bill. 

“I don’t have one,” she replied sunnily, beaming and not seeming too bothered by that. “I’ll just dance with Pacifica, or something.” 

Dipper waggled his eyebrows at her, and her face flushed as she averted his eyes. His joking expression dropped and he blinked at her. “Really?” 

She looked back up to him guiltily. “We’ve been talking a lot this semester,” she mumbled. 

“Wait, so are you two actually-?” 

“No!” Mabel cut him off with wide eyes, looking around frantically as if expecting Pacifica herself to jump out. “She doesn’t even know, Dipstick. Jeez.”

He grinned. “Well, New Years’ is a great time for confessions.” 

She frowned and punched his arm. “Yeah, I’ll be sure to remind you of that.” 

The girl came back with his accessories and he had to try the tux on one more time. When he was fully dressed, Mabel squealed and took a picture of him on her phone, declaring that it was perfect. 

The price rang up to an amount that would take a large chunk out of Dipper’s bank account, and while he cringed, he couldn’t really mind too much. 

\------

They ended up spending twice as much time (but only about half as much money) shopping for Mabel’s dress, flitting from store to store. After trying on what had to have been at least thirty or forty dresses (Dipper had lost count after number twenty-five), she finally decided on one: a short number that started as black on the bodice and then faded from a dark blue under that to a light blue at the very bottom. Its ruffles pushed it out more and it flared out when Mabel spun. 

It was very Mabel, but it was also very Pacifica, and he knew that he wasn’t the only one trying to make an impression. 

She tried it on again at home to show their parents, and of course that had prompted them to make Dipper show them his tux, as well. Their mother had been overjoyed, gushing about how it was just like the senior prom that Dipper hadn’t gone to. She even made them stand in front of the fireplace as she took pictures, Mabel grinning candidly and Dipper forcing a grimace as he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his dress pants. 

Afterwards, they both retreated to Dipper’s room. An old black-and-white horror movie played quietly from the small TV sitting on his dresser as he lounged on his bed and used his laptop to scroll through a forum about paranormal incidents. Mabel was sitting cross-legged in the recliner on the opposite side of the room, playing on her phone, and they fell into such a comfortable silence that Dipper practically jumped a foot when Mabel exclaimed his name. 

“What, what?” he asked frantically, shoving his laptop off to the side as she scrambled across the room. She shoved her phone in his face and he fumbled not to drop it as he pulled it away to a distance in which he could comfortably read whatever it was that he was trying to show him. 

Somebody on her Facebook newsfeed had shared an article about how animals in the Fresno area were being found slaughtered and how many locals were claiming to have seen a white, stick-like figure stalking through their yards at night. A grainy video cam image showed an example of one such creature, and Dipper recognized it immediately. His eyes flicked up to his sister. 

“You don’t think-?” 

“Nightcrawlers.” Mabel grinned. 

The Fresno nightcrawler certainly wasn’t an unfamiliar thing for the twins. The creature seemed to make an appearance every few years, according to a couple of die-hard paranormal fan bloggers who posted often on a cryptid forum that Dipper followed religiously. 

The last time it had been spotted was when the twins were fourteen, and they had done everything in their power to go and see it. They had told their parents that they were staying over at the house of an older friend, but they had really pooled their allowances together to pay that friend to drive them the two hours and forty-five minutes to Fresno, California. 

They had sat in a cold field all night and never saw a thing, and their friend had thought they were crazy for even trying. 

Dipper glanced at the picture on the article one more time before shrugging and handing the phone back to his twin. “Cool.” 

“ _Cool_?" Mabel echoed, eyes wide and bright. "Dipper, we've gotta go!" 

The boy snorted. "Sure, Mabes. Mom and Dad are totally going to let us drive _three hours_ up to Fresno to-" 

"Come on, Dipdop!" Mabel pleaded, jumping onto the bed and giving him her best puppydog eyes. "It's already eight, so they'll go to their room in an hour and won't come out again until eight tomorrow morning! That'll give us eleven hours on the road. Since we're on the highway, it'll only be about five and a half hours round trip, but figuring in stops for food and gas, I'll be generous and say six hours of travel time, tops. That gives us five hours to spot a nightcrawler! More than enough time!" She was now bouncing up and down excitedly, looking hopeful. 

He blinked at her, trying to find a mistake in her math somewhere as if that would actually deter her. When he couldn't, he sighed. "You've really thought this out, haven't you?" he asked.

"Always." She beamed. 

\------

When they heard their parents' door click shut an hour later, they quietly slipped out the front door and left in their mom's car, grateful that the engine was quiet. 

Dipper drove, Mabel fidgeting eagerly in the passenger seat. Once they got out of their quiet subdivision and onto the highway, they blasted the radio loud and sang along horribly at the top of their lungs. They rolled the windows down to enjoy the breeze despite the cool night air. 

After two hours, they pulled off at an exit to go through the drivethrough at a fast food restaurant and ordered several large fries, which they proceeded to dump out into the bag and set on the console between them so that Dipper could eat them while driving. As they ate, they talked loudly and told terrible jokes. Mabel suggested that they play I-Spy, and laughed when Dipper pointed out that it was too dark to really spy anything.

Mabel used her phone to look up the locations where the nightcrawlers had been spotted, then put that as the destination in a navigation app. Dipper turned the headlights off as they pulled into a dark subdivision, driving through until he found somewhere to pull off and park. 

They cut through several people's yards in a not-exactly-legal way before finally sitting atop a hill that looked down on a clearing. They tried to stay quiet, knowing that they could be in serious trouble for trespassing if they woke up any of the locals, but they still chattered quietly. Mabel pointed out constellations in the sky, starting with Dipper's namesake.

Hours passed with nothing happening, and Dipper feared it being a repeat of what had happened when they were fourteen. Mabel started to doze off around two in the morning, half-slumping against Dipper's shoulder and obviously fighting to keep her eyes open. They had finally slipped shut when Dipper spotted movement along a far-off treeline below, and he quickly shook his sister awake.

She jolted up, eyes flying open as she sleepily exclaimed, "Ah!" and then quietly, "... I wasn't sleepin'," even as she yawned. 

Dipper shook his head, hissing at her to be quiet as he pointed at the edge of the field. Her eyes widened. They both saw it at once: a flash of white and a streak of movement as the creature suddenly bounded across the field. Dipper moved instinctively to slap a hand over his sister's mouth to muffle her excited yell as she eagerly pointed at the thing. 

He quickly shushed her and and fumbled for the camera. The creature kept moving, and Dipper had to admit that it was kind of creepy up close. He could see why it was also sometimes called the 'Fresno alien.' 

Mabel took a handful of pictures that they would probably end up posting to the cryptids forum under an anonymous account, and then the creature was gone as quickly as it had come. Dipper's heart was racing and the grin wouldn't leave his face. They had just spotted a rare cryptid! Even though he lived in Gravity Falls and was completely used to this thing, it felt great to still be mystery hunting even in his home state, where supernatural creatures were rare.

As they headed back to the car, they were both laughing joyously, forgetting to care about staying quiet. Mabel climbed into the driver's side this time, and based on the look of adrenaline on her face, Dipper knew he wouldn't have to worry about her falling asleep again. 

As she started up the car, she grinned at him. "Mystery Twins?" 

He smiled back. "Mystery Twins."


	15. Chapter Fifteen

"What if he doesn't-"

"He'll show," Mabel assured him with a smile as she straightened his tie. Dipper shifted uncomfortably as his sister frowned, tugging at strands of hair on either side of his face. "This isn't even," she muttered, ordering him to stay put as she retrieved a pair of clippers from one of the bathroom drawers. 

Dipper rolled his eyes as Mabel snipped at his hair, circling him and tugging at his locks to assure that they were even all around. When she was satisfied, she grinned at her handiwork and set the scissors down. 

"There," she declared, beaming proudly. "Now, think you can stay looking decent until it's time to go?" 

He rolled his eyes. "I can probably manage," he said dryly. "Go finish getting ready." 

She gave him a serious look, as if daring him to mess up her hard work, before skipping cheerily off to her room.

Dipper walked stiffly to the kitchen, resisting the urge to adjust his tie himself (as he was sure Mabel would probably just end up fixing it again later). 

Grunkle Stan laughed when he saw him, and Dipper scowled. The old man patted him on the back on his way to the coffee maker, where he carefully poured himself a mug-full. After their flight this morning, he needed it. 

"You got yourself a date for tonight, kid?" Stan asked as he sat down at the table and Dipper leaned against the counter. 

Dipper took a sip of his coffee, making sure to be careful not to spill on his tux. "Sorta," he muttered. 

Stan raised an eyebrow, but then a look of realization flashed across his face and his expression darkened. Dipper could see him stiffen as he frowned. "Kid, you better not mean-" 

"Yeah," Dipper replied sheepishly. 

While they certainly didn't talk about it much, Stan knew that Dipper still spent most of his time around Bill. While Dipper lied through his teeth and assured his great uncle that _no, of course I don't let Bill in the Shack!_ , he figured that the man still knew and just liked to pretend that it wasn't going on. 

Grunkle Stan took a deep breath, and Dipper braced himself for a lecture. But his uncle just sighed heavily and grouched, "Well, I don't approve of it," Dipper's face fell, "but I guess that you're old enough to make your own stupid decisions."

Dipper gave him a weak smile. "Thanks, Grunkle Stan." 

After that, he retreated to his room, still clutching his coffee like a lifeline. He passed Mabel on her way back to the bathroom to do her makeup and she gave him a stern look and told him to be careful not to spill. It was hard to take her seriously in her blue ruffly dress and the curlers still set in place in her hair. 

Once back in his room, he set his coffee down on his desk and took a deep breath. He gave in and ran his hands through his hair despite Mabel's best efforts to make it look decent, brushing his bangs out of his eyes. 

"You clean up nice, kid." 

Dipper jumped at the voice and frowned at not having sensed Bill's presence. He turned to face the demon, who gave him the same impressed smirk that he was so used to at this point. 

His heart surged at the sight. He hadn't realized just how much he had missed the demon after two weeks of not seeing him at all.

Bill had also changed up his regular attire, sporting a black tuxedo that looked a lot like Dipper's except for much, _much_ more expensive, perfectly tailored to fit the demon's body shape. The gold buttons were shaped like triangles, of course, and his bowtie was yellow (oddly the exact color that Dipper had picked as an accent, which could _not_ have been a coincidence) rather than black. His golden-blonde hair was swept out of his face and looked much less unruly than usual. 

"You too," Dipper murmured quietly in response, unable to tear his eyes away. 

Bill could tell, and he laughed, striding a bit closer until he was only an arm's length away. Dipper shoved his hands in his pockets to keep himself from reaching out to the other. 

"I always look nice," Bill scoffed. His eyes glinted, a bit predatorily. "Miss me, Pine Tree?" he asked, grinning.

Dipper gave him a sad smile. "Yeah." 

The confident look left Bill's face for just a second, his expression flashing with something reminiscent of confusion. It was gone as quickly as it had appeared, though, and Bill was brushing it off by throwing an arm around Dipper's shoulders and pulling him towards the stairs with a chipper, "Come on, plus-one." 

\------

They took Dipper's truck to the party, him driving and Mabel in the passenger seat with Bill wedged in between them. His sister's dress was puffed out and half of the ruffles were laying across the demon's lap. Dipper's eyes caught on to the movement when Bill's hands, sans gloves, absently played with the fabric.

Mabel was expressively recounting the story of their brief monster hunt over break to Bill, her face lit up and hands moving rapidly as she spoke. The demon looked positively delighted, commenting on how rare it was to see supernatural creatures outside of paranormal hotspots like Gravity Falls. 

Dipper made a mental note to ask him what the other "hotspots" were later. 

When Mabel made it to the point in the story about them first spotting the nightcrawler, Bill cut her off with a guffaw. "Let me guess," he said, gasping through his laughs, "Pine Tree's face was something like _this_?" He pulled a ridiculously cartoonish expression of shock and Mabel dissolved into giggles. Dipper's hands tightened on the steering wheel. 

When Mabel composed herself, she exclaimed, "No, it was more like _this_!" She pulled an equally ridiculous face and Bill cackled. 

The demon made another joke about Dipper and his sister- his own _sister_ , what a traitor!- laughed along with him. Dipper gritted his teeth and swerved off to the side of the road quickly, throwing the car into park. His passengers both blinked at him.

"Pine Tree-"

"Broski, what-" 

"Switch places with Mabel," Dipper ordered, glaring at Bill. 

Bill frowned at him. "Seriously?"

"Seriously." 

Amusement came over the demon's face and he snorted before murmuring, "Sure thing, kid." 

Bill and Mabel switched spots with only a bit of confusion and awkwardness, and he didn't wait for the demon to finish buckling in before he took back off onto the road. 

\------

The party was already alive when they got there and flashed their invitations at the door, a crowded ballroom full of people in bright dresses and waiters carrying drinks and fingerfood. Mabel ran off immediately to find Pacifica. 

One of the servers stopped to offer them flutes of champagne, which Dipper politely declined. Bill took one, though, which Dipper didn't object to merely because Bill was technically ageless and therefore legal to drink (plus, his human body looked to be about twenty-one, anyway, but there was no real way to tell and he was sure Bill would go on about the limitations of time and space and unreality if he asked). 

He _did_ blanch when Bill downed the champagne like a shot, set it back on the tray, and straight-facedly asked the waiter "who he'd have to kill to get a margarita," however. 

The server's fake smile didn't falter as he replied, "I'll get somebody on that for you, Sir." 

"Excellent," Bill practically purred. The waiter gave another smile before walking off, just a bit faster than he had been before. 

Dipper rolled his eyes as Bill snuck an arm around his waist and pulled him close as they walked into the crowd. He stiffened and tried immediately to pull away, making Bill pout and tighten his grip in an almost protective manner. 

They passed by a group of girls, one of whom was looking around the grand ballroom and sighed about how she would sell her soul to live in a mansion like this and making Bill cut in between them and curiously ask, “Really?” Dipper muttered a quiet apology and roughly yanked the blonde away before he could start trying to make deals.

"Don't be mad at me, Pine Tree," the demon whined, having to move his face close to Dipper's to be heard over the classical music playing loudly and the dull roar of the crowd's chatter. 

"Don't be annoying," Dipper muttered in response as he tugged himself out of Bill's grasp, but his heart wasn't in. 

Bill pouted once more, but the same waiter from before approached them with a margarita and his face lit up again. Dipper blinked at how fast the service had been, almost wondering if there was something supernatural in play there.

As Bill happily sipped at his new drink and the waiter retreated, Dipper asked, "Does alcohol even affect you?"

"Not in the same way it affects you meatsacks," Bill scoffed. "It would take a lot more than fermented grapes and grain to get me intoxicated, Pine Tree." He smirked.

"Then what's the appeal for you?" Somebody pushed roughly by Dipper and he frowned in their general direction, but didn't have enough energy to actually confront anybody.

Being around Bill after _not_ having his energy forcibly taken from him for two weeks made him dizzy, and it wasn’t just from the lightheadedness he got when he stared at him for too long. 

“Alcohol is closely associated with sin,” Bill hummed in response, shifting closer to Dipper. “That means that it puts off a lot of dark energy, which I feed off of.” 

Dipper frowned. Talks of energy always confused him, memories of high school physics and laws of matter exchange floating around in his head. “Dark energy? Isn’t that what you said would come from,” he glanced around to make sure nobody was listening in, “the _apocalypse_?” 

Bill looked a bit amused at Dipper’s cautiousness as he calmly replied, “Yes, mostly. What I take from you is _life energy_. Dark energy is what I can absorb through people’s sin and what _you_ can absorb through killing things.” 

Dipper blinked at the demon before the words seemed to sink in. “ _Killing_ things?” Another person pushed past him and he had no choice but to step closer to Bill to the point where they were nearly touching and he could feel the warmth radiating off of him in the crowd. 

Bill shrugged. “Yeah, kid. Ever notice how you had more energy after killing that crocotta, or banishing those sluagh?” 

Dipper hadn’t, but perhaps that was because Bill drained any extra energy he may have had. 

“That’s why you didn’t help when the crocotta attacked me,” he realized. The scar on his arm seemed to sting at the memory. 

“Now you’re getting it,” Bill laughed. “Killing anything will put off the dark matter from the soul, but supernatural creatures tend to have a lot extra to give. When you’re the one to take the thing out, you absorb its energy. Energy is never created nor destroyed- only exchanged.”

Dipper felt a little sick. He had never killed anything on purpose, but over years of being attacked, he had had to defend himself to the best of his abilities, and sometimes that involved taking the life of whatever creature had been going for his. 

He wanted to accuse Bill of using him, of taking advantage of his blind ignorance, but he knew that the demon would just agree and not see any flaw in having done so. And, to be honest, he was right. Dipper needed to remind himself that Bill was only here _because_ he was using him. 

Bill didn’t care about him or his morals- he wasn’t becoming more human. Demons didn’t change. He may have been flirty and clingy, but it was just part of his nature. He saw Dipper as something that he owned. 

For some reason, that thought made him feel even more sick than the thought that he had been draining energy from dead creatures, and he mumbled that he was going to find his sister as he pushed past Bill, ignoring the demon’s frown and look of confusion. 

He spotted his sister’s bright blue dress from far away and he made his way over to her, finding her floating at the edge of the crowd but not actually entering it. Pacifica was stuck at her side like she had been glued there, a red dress that strongly resembled the style and cut of Mabel’s clad to her skin. The girls were leaning close to talk, laughing about something, and Dipper almost felt bad about cutting in and interrupting. 

But then Mabel saw him and she ran over as fast as her heels would allow her to grab his hands and pull him back to where she had been standing. 

“Broski!” she exclaimed with a grin, eyes shining, “Isn’t this party _great_?” 

Both he and Pacifica frowned at her, and he had to wonder how much she had had to drink in the half hour that Dipper had left her alone.

“Uh huh,” he replied slowly before his eyes flicked over to the blonde. “Hey, Pacifica.” 

“Dipper. Glad you could come,” she replied courteously but without any real feeling, then continued casually, “So, Mabel tells me that you thought it was a great idea to bring the demon who possessed my father a few years ago into my house.” 

Dipper cringed. He had almost forgotten about that. 

“He’s, uh… he’s changed,” he offered weakly, despite thinking just a few moments before about how that couldn’t be true. 

Pacifica opened her mouth to say something else, looking a tad bit annoyed, but Mabel slung an arm around her shoulders and leaned against her. Dipper resisted the urge to roll his eyes; it was obviously an act, as Mabel couldn’t get that tipsy from a maximum of a few flutes of champagne. Pacifica either didn’t notice or didn’t care about this little detail, though, as she allowed it and her eyes seemed to warm up a bit. 

Dipper smiled. Maybe Mabel’s feelings were requited after all. 

Dipper was going to ask his sister if she had a free moment to talk to him alone, but the words died on his lips as he felt a shock go through his body. Mabel must have felt it too, the shift of magic in the room, for her head snapped up and the look of false intoxication wiped away from her face. Dipper whirled around, standing next to his sister and ignoring the confused look on Pacifica’s face. 

He spotted him almost immediately, all the way across the room and wearing a white suit: Vepnihr. He was so far away that Dipper wouldn’t have recognized him from here had he not felt the same nausea that had overcome him in the clearing the day he realized that this was the creature who had been ruining his life. His eyes locked on the demon, who stood still with hands shoved into his pockets. Dipper couldn’t see from where he was standing, but he was certain that Vepnihr was smirking. 

“That’s him,” he muttered lowly to his sister, not tearing his eyes away. He felt her stiffen as she dropped her arm away from Pacifica and stepped closer to him. He was sure she was bracing herself for a fight.

Vepnihr was still watching them and not doing anything. He was obviously there for a reason and that reason was clear, but he was making it so much worse by making Dipper come to him.

He took a step forward and Mabel’s hand closed around his wrist. “You’re not going alone,” she murmured, giving him a hard stare. 

Even with the way her hair was swept over her face, he could clearly see the scar running down her cheek. He opted to ignore it. His sister wasn’t weak. She wasn’t helpless. She could hold her all. 

But she still wasn’t going with him.

“Mabel.” He turned to face her, gently pulling his wrist from her grasp. “This isn’t me trying to protect you. This is me knowing that he’ll hurt you to get to me if that’s what it takes.” 

Mabel looked conflicted, but Pacifica stepped protectively in front of her and gave Dipper a dark look. “What the hell is going on?” she demanded. “How is Mabel in danger?” 

“It’s not me, it’s Dip-”

“There’s a demon here,” Dipper cut her off. He threw a look over his shoulder. Vepnihr was still just standing there, watching him. He shivered. 

Pacifica scowled, placing a hand on her hip. “Yeah, I know, you brought him here.” 

“Not Bill,” he murmured, turning around again. He glanced once more over his shoulder at the frowning blonde and his sister, looking scared and conflicted about what she wanted to do. 

“Keep her safe,” he added and Pacifica nodded. 

He pushed his way through the crowd, eyes scanning for Bill. He was vaguely surprised that Bill hadn’t already made Vepnihr blow up, considering how angry he had been upon their last confrontation. 

_Fuck, Bill, a bit of back up would be nice right now…_ He scowled. 

Vepnihr finally moved when Dipper was only a few feet away, clearing the remaining distance between them and reaching out to grab Dipper’s hand. He tried to yank it away immediately but the demon only tightened his grasp and pulled Dipper closer. Vepnihr half-bowed in an overly dramatic way and brushed his lips over the top of Dipper’s hand. The teen felt bile rise in his throat. 

“You look lovely, Dipper,” the demon purred. His eyes glowed violet. He brought his free hand up to brush jet-black hair out of his face. 

“What do you want?” the boy spit, still unable to tug his hand out of the other’s grasp. He stopped trying when nails bit threateningly into his skin. 

“Just to talk,” Vepnihr offered, feigning innocence. “Dance with me.”

Dipper frowned. “What? No way! You- you nearly killed me!” His side still hurt from the incident. His skin was still so marred and he doubted he’d ever be able to take his shirt off in front of anybody without feeling self-conscious. 

Vepnihr tugged on his arm then and Dipper stumbled, ending up pressed flush against the other’s body. He moved instantly to get away, but one of Vepnihr’s hands landed in a vice-like grip on his shoulder while the fingers of his other intertwined with Dipper’s. 

“I could kill everybody in this room in a mere _second_ ,” he hissed, all of the calm and polite exterior from a moment before gone in a heartbeat. Dipper’s heart dropped into his stomach. “So, I’d suggest you cooperate.” 

He held his breath, counting down from ten in his head to try and calm down before he swallowed his pride and nodded. “Okay.” He dropped his free hand to land on the other’s waist uncomfortably and stiffly.

Like magic- probably something at the hands of the demon- the song playing shifted to a slow waltz. Vepnihr held him close and Dipper tried to ignore the sick feeling in his stomach and looked for an out. He hadn’t formally danced in years and his steps were shaky and uneven, but the demon didn’t seem to mind. 

“So, Dipper,” he said after a while, his voice shifting back to something less demonic, “I want you to join me.” 

Dipper stumbled and the other tightened his grip on him. He glared. “I get that you may not know much about humans, but they don’t normally start out their business propositions by giving the other nightmares and trying to ruin their lives.” 

Vepnihr laughed. The icy sound send shivers down the teen’s spine. “Like I told you, kid: I wanted to see you desperate. I wanted to see how far you’d go for the cause. I needed to make sure that you couldn’t be broken, and look at that! You’ve still got a fighting spirit, even though you know very well that I could break your neck right now.” The hand on his shoulder shifted to the back of his neck as if to further this point and Dipper stiffened.

“What do you even want me for? I’m a mortal. I can’t possibly be of any use to you.” The music picked up tempo suddenly and Dipper struggled to keep up with the demon’s steps. 

“Oh, but you can.” He grinned wickedly. “Your magic skills are excellent in comparison to most, and your knowledge in regards to spells and the paranormal is impressive. You’d make an excellent assistant to me in the future, and we could fix that whole ‘mortal’ thing.” 

Dipper froze. Vepnihr tugged him along into the dance. “You want to… make me immortal?” 

“Precisely. There’s a storm coming, Dipper, and it’s going to take out every mortal in Gravity Falls. It’d be a shame to lose my new comrade so quickly.” 

The words played over in his head, and then Dipper wanted to hit himself for even considering it. “No way, man. I’m not interested. I’m not helping you destroy Gravity Falls.” 

Vepnihr frowned, his eyes flashing red in an angry look that Dipper had seen many times on Bill’s face. Then, his face split with a grin that sent Dipper's stomach doing somersaults. "Maybe Mabel would be more ready to comply," he mused as if talking about a totally casual subject. “She _is_ pretty good at magic, after all.”

Dipper stiffened. "You keep my sister out of this," he growled, keeping his voice low so as to not draw outside attention. "As if she would ever help you anyway."

Vepnihr laughed and he leaned closer until his hot breath was tickling Dipper's ear. "Oh, I think either one of you would be ready to work with me if the other was in danger."

The threat sent warning bells off in the teen's head and he wanted nothing more than to punch the demon in the jaw or banish him out of this realm, but he feared what would happen to him or Mabel or any of the innocent party guests if he were to do so. Though it physically pained him to, he choked out, “What do you want me to do?” 

Vepnihr leaned in until his lips brushed against Dipper's throat, and the boy could feel his grin. He ran his lips down Dipper's neck and his teeth grazed the skin, and it took all of Dipper's might not to flinch away. 

The song came to an end and the demon reestablished his hold on the boy, one hand tightening around the back of his neck and securing him in place. He pulled back so that Dipper could seen his delighted smirk and the mirth in his eyes. He used his other hand to tilt Dipper's chin up and the teen stared him down defiantly. 

"Yes," Vepnihr practically purred, ignoring Dipper's question, "I think you'll make an excellent pet." 

Two things happened at once, so quickly that Dipper couldn't discern which occurred first: Vepnihr swooped down to press his lips against Dipper's, and an outside force shoved the demon away and ripped Dipper back so hard that he thought his arm was going to come out of its socket.

The conversation around them died off into hushed gasps and murmurs as Vepnihr stumbled back a bit, looking confused, and the hand on Dipper's upper arm tightened. He twisted around to see Bill, whose eyes were wide and blown and downright _bloodthirsty_. He tugged his arm from the demon's grasp and that seemed to pull Bill back into the real world, because he looked around and realized that he had drawn an audience. In a blur, he has pulled Dipper against him, dipped the teen back as if in a dance, and pressed his lips firmly against the boy's. 

Dipper's eyes widened before slipping shut, and boy, he _really_ wished he had had time to take a breath before this because he really hadn't imagined kissing Bill for the first time without any air in his lungs. The kiss lasted a few long seconds- long enough for Bill to actually move his lips slightly against Dipper's and for the teen to shudder in desire- before the demon stood up and pulled Dipper back into an upright position. 

The crowd around them dispersed, some shuffling off awkwardly and some slow-clapping and wolf-whistling. They all seemed to accept Bill's actions of those of a jealous lover- which was probably the image he had been trying to pass off- for they all moved on. When Dipper broke away and stumbled back, his head spinning and his heart pounding and _holy shit did he seriously just kiss Bill_ , Vepnihr was gone. 

He looked at Bill, expecting him to brush it off as a joke, but the demon's eyes were wide and dark- not an angry red, but almost black. His chest was heaving and his face was contorted in anger. Dipper was almost anticipating it when the demon grabbed his arm again and crushed him against his chest. 

"Bill," Dipper mumbled, voice muffled by the other's shirt as the demon's arms encircled him in a protectively tight grip. 

"You are _mine_ ," Bill snarled near his ear, and Dipper felt goosebumps rise on his arms. "I'd kill you myself before I let another demon take you from me."

That sentence wasn't exactly reassuring, but it sent a wave of heat into Dipper's stomach all the same and he once again began to question when he had become so fucked up. 

Dipper pulled back slightly, having to struggle a bit to get Bill to loosen his grip. The demon watched him with wide, hungry eyes that made it clear what he truly was. "Hey, I-"

He was cut off by Bill's mouth crushing against his again- and this time, it wasn't for a show. When Dipper realized this, he melted into the kiss, bringing his arms up to wrap around Bill's neck and pulling himself up more against the taller man. One of Bill's hands tightened on his waist and the other came up to thread into Dipper's hair, holding his head in place. The demon's mouth moved against his, nipping slightly at the boy's lips and drawing a muffled, breathy moan out of him. 

At the noise, Bill broke off and Dipper's face burned in shame. But instead of looking angry or, more likely, amused, Bill's expression just darkened even more. He licked his lips, and the movement didn't go unnoticed by Dipper. 

Bill closed his eyes and pushed his forehead against Dipper's in an uncharacteristically gentle moment. "Let's get out of here, Pine Tree," he murmured, voice low and breathy and sounding like the embodiment of sin itself. 

There were a lot of arguments that Dipper could have made against that, such as how they had only been there for an hour or maybe about how he was a little afraid that Bill was going to actually kill him, but instead he found himself unable to nod and breath, "Okay," fast enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut in the next chapter.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for explicit content in this chapter! 
> 
> If that makes you uncomfortable and you'd like to skip it, you're not missing too much plot-wise- more character development than anything else, I guess.

The air in Dipper’s truck on the drive home was heavy. 

After he had walked up to his sister with a flushed face and told her that he was leaving and that she needed to stay at Pacifica’s overnight, ignoring all of her questions about Vepnihr, her eyes had widened and she had made a couple of jokes that practically pushed Dipper out the door even quicker. Just the trek down the long walkway and to the car had felt tense, the teen unsure of whether or not he should say something to the demon. 

Bill got into the passenger side without a word, and Dipper hurried to start up the truck. As he pulled out of the driveway, perhaps a little faster than was necessarily safe, he watched Bill agitatedly bouncing his knee and drumming his fingers on the dashboard. He flicked his gaze over to the other for just a moment to see that Bill’s hungry stare was still burning into him without fail. In the silence, he became overly aware of Bill’s unsteady breathing and that was affecting him in a way he didn’t want to think about while driving, so he reached over and turned on the radio. 

As an eighties’ hit flooded through the car, Dipper felt a little bit better. He focused on the road and tried to ignore the warmth radiating off of Bill despite the several feet between them. He focused on driving and didn’t think about- about _what_ , exactly? What were they going to do when they got back to the Shack? This all felt like another one of Dipper’s hormone-fueled dreams about the demon. 

Or maybe Bill was just trying to lure him away from everyone before he slaughtered him like a pig.

To distract himself, he let his thoughts wander to Vepnihr. The demon’s words were still ringing through his ears, tales of an apocalypse and how he could make Dipper immortal. Was this going to be like last time? Was he going to wait months before cornering Dipper again, or was he going to bring on this so-called apocalypse sooner? 

He glanced over to Bill, who still looked furious. Dipper felt a bit bad; he thought about the necklace that Bill had given him before he left for California. He could picture where it was sitting on his desk. He had worn it the whole time he’d been in Piedmont, but he hadn’t thought he’d need it when he was back in Gravity Falls. That had been foolish. Maybe if he’d worn it, Vepnihr wouldn’t have been so handsy. 

They were halfway home before Bill finally let out a frustrated sigh and growled, “Can you drive a bit faster?” 

In a desperate moment of trying to maintain his own ground and not give in to temptation, Dipper snarkily replied, “I’m driving the speed limit.” 

Bill took a frustrated-sounding breath, and Dipper belatedly wondered if Bill’s current state was any indication of how right now was probably _not_ the best time to be making jokes. 

“Pine Tree,” he finally said, voice terrifyingly calm, “when we get back to the Shack, I’m going to mark you all over, and then I’m going to fuck you and make you scream my name until there’s no question about who you belong to.” 

Dipper pressed down a bit harder on the accelerator. 

\-----

Grunkle Stan was passed out in his chair when they got back to the house, and with Bill muttering a quiet, “I’ll make sure he stays asleep,” it was easy enough for them to creep past him and up to the attic. 

Whatever nerves Dipper had creeping into his stomach were gone the second that the door closed and Bill shoved him up against it. The demon rested his elbows on the door on either side of Dipper’s head, caging him, and in a panicked moment of being unsure what to do with his hands, the teen finally resolved to bring them up to clutch at the front of Bill's suit jacket.

"You've been driving me fucking _wild_ , kid," Bill snarled, his warm breath hitting Dipper's face before he reclaimed the boy's lips in a kiss once more. 

There may have been passion, but it sure wasn't romantic. It was rough and angry and possessive, and Dipper knew he was going to hell but he couldn't bring himself to care. 

In an unforeseen moment of confidence, Dipper's hands slipped up to start working at untying the other's bowtie. Bill breathed heavily and let Dipper try and fail for a few seconds before he swatted the boy's hands away and skillfully pulled it off himself. 

Bill worked on Dipper's own tie after that, and Dipper still didn't know where to put his hands.

The demon didn't stop at the tie; he kept going, pushing Dipper's jacket off his shoulders and hands practically flying to rip the buttons open. The teen ignored the logical part of his brain screaming about how expensive this tux had been and just allowed himself to revel in the moment when one of Bill's hands found his hair and pulled. 

He practically keened, halting Bill's movements and tilting his chin up so he could smash his lips onto the other's. Bill allowed him to feel in-charge for a full second before he was shifting his weight and, in one swift movement, somehow pinned both of Dipper's hands above his head and shoved one knee in between the boy's thighs to press onto his ever-growing hardness. 

Dipper had never thought he'd be one to enjoy the feeling of helplessness, but being completely immobilized under Bill sent a wave of dizziness through him. 

The demon nipped at his bottom lip a bit too roughly and Dipper practically yelped in response, breaking himself out of the daze and causing Bill to pull back a bit. He brought one hand down but quickly moved the other to continue pinning Dipper's in place- not that he needed to. At this point, Dipper was sure that he would hold his hands there all night if Bill told him to.

That thought probably should have scared him more than it did. 

Bill eyed him up hungrily. His eyes had finally faded from red back to gold, but they didn't look any less animalistic. Dipper tried to give him the expected defiant glare despite it being the opposite of how he felt right now, and the blonde chuckled.

"Don't pretend that you don't want this, Pine Tree," he purred, leaning in until his teeth grazed the shell of Dipper's ear. He fought back a moan and instead focused on trying to steady his breathing. 

"Wh-who's pretending?" he gasped, figuring that maybe if he was still able to be sarcastic, then perhaps he wasn't too far gone.

Bill laughed, the sound ringing out like bells right next to Dipper's ear as he dropped the boy's hands just so he could finish pushing his shirt off his shoulders and allow it to land in a heap on the ground with his discarded jacket. 

Once completed shirtless and exposed, Dipper squirmed in discomfort for two reasons: first off, Bill was still fully dressed save for the tie, and secondly, Dipper's horribly scarred-up side was on full display. As Bill's hands moved down to start working on unbuckling his belt, Dipper's hands moved to try and subtly cover the marred area.

The blonde’s hands froze almost immediately. “Humbleness isn’t a good look on you, kid,” Bill murmured as he gently pushed the boy’s hands away. He eyed the scar for a second before his eyes flashed red and he seemed to have to visibly compose himself, taking another deep breath. “I should have killed him when I had the chance,” he snarled under his breath, almost inaudibly, and Dipper didn’t have to ask who he was talking about. 

He brushed his fingers ever-so-gentle over where the stitches had been. “Bill,” Dipper sighed, breath catching. It felt… nice. He tried to ignore the nerves that clenched in his stomach, the things telling him that _no, it looks bad, nobody should see it, you need to keep it covered_. 

Bill’s eyes snapped up to him at that, the same predatorial glow returning to them. He dropped his hands, taking a step back. “On the bed, Pine Tree,” he growled, and Dipper couldn’t find any reason or any way to argue. 

He practically scrambled to jump up onto the bed, managing to kick off his shoes and socks on the way. He had barely climbed onto the mattress before Bill was flipped him over and shoving him until his back hit the headboard. With the way Bill planted himself in between Dipper’s legs, his knees were spread, leaving him overly-exposed even in his (now too-tight) slacks. 

Bill shoved his knees down, and Dipper was practically grasping the headboard for support by the time the demon seemed to get settled, once again returning his hands to Dipper’s scarred side. Amber eyes burned as they stared up at him. “I’m going to mark you, Pine Tree,” Bill murmured, voice a bit more tender than it had been before. “Right here.” Too-sharp nails tapped the area where the stitches had been. “And this isn’t going to be a simply demonic mark, either. Even humans will be able to see it. Like a tattoo.” 

Dipper’s breath caught. “Not like… a binding tattoo, though, right?” 

Bill’s eyes flicked up to him again before looking back to his own hands. “Not exactly, no. Not in that sense. It’ll bind you to me, but not any more than the other one did. This is just accessory.” 

The teen took a deep breath. He couldn’t shake the fear that was ultimately coursing through him, making his hands tremble slightly. Still, despite it all, seeing Bill crouched in between his legs with his eyes burning with lust and his hair messed up, he was painfully turned on. 

“So, it’s for-”

“For letting the world know that you are _mine_.” 

When he spoke like that, it was hard to doubt that he meant it with the utmost certainty. 

Bill stared up at him steadily. When he didn’t just immediately go for it, Dipper realized what this was: he was giving him an out. He remembered Dipper’s reaction to the small, already hidden mark on his inner wrist, and he was giving him the chance to say no. 

Even with the full implications of the mark looming over him, Dipper breathed out shakily and nodded. 

After the first time Bill’s claws bit into his skin and he had to choke back a scream, it wasn’t so bad. At first he panicked, as he hadn’t realized that Bill was _literally_ going to carve into him and that the mark was simply going to be another scar, but he calmed down after he actually peered down at the demon’s work. The blood would form at the surface after the nails made their way across, but only for a second before it was sort of glowing and fading into a pale gold on his skin. It almost looked like henna, but Dipper was sure that this was never going to come off. 

Bill’s free hand landed on his opposite hip and squeezed it in what was a slightly threatening and slightly reassuring gesture. “Keep still, Pine Tree,” he muttered. His brow was creased and he looked utterly focused, like an artist finishing up a masterpiece. 

He knew that Bill was drawing his summoning wheel without even having to look anymore. He tried to sit back and keep his breathing steady, ignoring what he pretended were not tears forming behind his eyes. When Bill was about halfway through (or, at least what Dipper was guessing was halfway through), his hand stilled for just a second as he looked up at him. The moment of relief was almost enough to make Dipper cry in rejoice. “You okay, kid?” the demon asked, his nails now ghosting over Dipper’s skin but not cutting in. His voice was low and husky, eyes black; it was obvious he was enjoying this. 

Dipper tried to remember what Bill had said at the party about energy. He got more from activities related to sin, right? So, _lust_...

“Yeah,” Dipper lied, trying to force a smile. He was sure that taking a break would just make it hurt all the more later. 

Bill frowned at him, but adjusted his free hand to pin Dipper’s stomach and tighten the skin all the same. When prompted, Dipper moved slightly to put more of his skin on display. He hissed in pain as the demon’s claws returned to carving into him. 

The second half seemed to go by quicker, or maybe Dipper was just a bit delusioned from the pain that his adrenaline levels were boosting high to tune out. Anyways, he was surprised when Bill finally pulled his hand away and let up on the pressure that he had been placing on the boy’s stomach to keep him in place. 

It still stung, but when Bill leaned in and brushed his lips softly over the newly-formed marks, Dipper hissed and this time it wasn’t out of pain. He raised his hips in hopes of getting more contact, but that just made Bill pull away and chuckle, mirth obvious in his eyes. 

Bill sat up then, eyeing up the work from far away. Dipper had to crane his neck to see it from this angle, but he didn’t think it looked too bad. The mark perfectly depicted Bill’s summoning wheel in marks that were a lot less sloppy than he would have expected, considering Bill literally drew them _with his fingernails_ , and it looked perfectly placed above Dipper’s right hip. The gold contrasted his pale skin better than any real tattoo would have. It wasn’t too big; if Dipper splayed his hand over it, his fingertips would all just brush the outer circle. 

He didn’t have much time to stare at it before Bill was climbing fully on top of him again, grabbing a fistful of his hair and kissing him once more. Dipper made a choked noise before melting into the kiss and letting his hands come up to tangle in the demon's hair, letting out a soft noise when he felt Bill’s tongue parting his lips.

He got so distracted by the feeling of the demon’s lips on his, tongues clashing, that it took him a moment to realize that Bill’s free hand was undoing his belt and shoving his pants and boxers down in a move that Dipper himself never would have been able to manage so skillfully. When Bill broke off the kiss and began to kiss at Dipper’s neck instead, the teen regained some of his composure and shoved at Bill’s shoulder to stop him. “W-wait!”

Bill paused, pulling back to glance at him. He raised an eyebrow. “Hm?”

“Y-you-” Dipper’s face burned. Bill had managed to get him pantsless and boxerless in just a few seconds, and he was painfully aware of how exposed he was with one of Bill’s knees right between his legs. The cool air hit him suddenly, and he shivered. “You’re still fully dressed,” he managed weakly. 

Bill blinked down at himself, then smiled in amusement. “Guess I am,” he murmured. He sat back on his knees, and Dipper tried to resist the urge to look down at his own body now that it wasn’t covered by Bill’s. He didn’t need the reminder of how exposed he was right now. 

Bill took his time undoing his cufflinks and then his button-down, one button at a time. By the time he was discarding his jacket and shirt onto the floor, Dipper was squirming and desperate for more contact. Bill seemed to notice that completely, smirking down at the boy as Dipper tried to distract himself by drinking in the sight of Bill’s now-bare chest. 

“Like what you see, Pine Tree?” the demon asked with a chuckle as he leaned over Dipper again, running his fingertips gently down his skin, starting at his neck and stopping just short of his aching hardness. Dipper resisted the urge to buck his hips up to force the contact and just swallowed his pride, nodding and casting his eyes downwards.

“Good,” the demon purred, and when his hand finally wrapped around Dipper’s cock, the boy keened, a choked moan spilling from his lips. “Because I do too.”

There was only a short moment for Dipper to try and compose himself before Bill was shifting his weight and suddenly ducking his head down to take Dipper’s cock into his mouth. His hands gripped the teen's hips and pulled them up more so he could get a better angle, as if he had done this a million times and knew exactly what to do. The boy brought a fist up to his mouth immediately to muffle his moans, fighting not to push his hips up as Bill just went for it, taking Dipper in until his lips met his hand at the base of the boy's length.

“B-bill, f _uck_ ,” he choked as the demon pulled back to swirl his tongue around the head. 

If he hadn’t been so far gone, he’d have been thinking more about how strange it was that _Bill_ was going down on _him_ and not the other way around. Everytime he’d pictured them in this sort of situation, he’d imagined that Bill would have been the type to immediately shove him onto his knees and just hold his head as he-

Okay, Dipper definitely could _not_ think about that right now, not with the way Bill was taking him into his _throat_ and watching Dipper with those lust-filled eyes.

He bit into his fist to muffle the sounds that he couldn’t help but let escape from his lips. This was apparently _not_ the best thing to do, for the second his moans stopped filling the room, Bill pulled off and fixed Dipper with a stare that was hard to read when the blackness of his irises had nearly taken over the sclera. 

“None of that, Pine Tree,” he growled, one hand still gripping the base of the boy’s length a bit _too_ tight. The other hand bit into his hip, the same one that the demon had been marking just a few minutes before. “Let me hear you.”

When Dipper hesitated to remove his makeshift muffling device, Bill snarled, “Don’t make me bind your hands.”

That threat (promise?) made Dipper’s cock twitch and he practically died of embarrassment at the knowledge that Bill could feel it, made even worse when the demon raised an eyebrow and smirked at him. Still, he lowered his hands, instead grasping tightly onto fistfuls of sheet, and Bill brought his mouth back down once more. After a second, he let one hand fall down to thread through Bill's hair, and when the tightening of his fingers made the demon hum appreciatively around his cock, he pulled harder. 

The boy did as he was told, not bothering to muffle the gasps and whimpers that escaped his throat as the demon bobbed his head up and down at a teasingly slow pace. He hoped that Bill stuck to his promise and kept his great uncle asleep downstairs, or else this would _not_ be a fun conversation to have over breakfast.

Oh god, he was not going to last like this. His other hand flew down to grasp desperately at Bill's hair as he pushed his hips up. He expected the demon to stop him, maintain the dominant role, but instead he just moaned around Dipper's cock and went even harder.

"Bill, fuck, I'm gonna-"

Bill pulled off in half a second, laughing, "Oh, no you're not." He released the boy's length and wiped his mouth with the back of the same hand as Dipper whined in frustration, shifting uncomfortably. "Do you have any-"

"Second drawer from the top," Dipper breathed, gesturing vaguely towards his dresser. His voice cracked on the downbeat, and Bill laughed breathily but climbed off of him nonetheless.

Dipper had to restrain himself not to reach down and relieve some of his aching himself as he heard the demon opening his drawer and digging through it. He eyed Bill up, taking in the exposed tan skin, ruffled blonde hair, and now slightly-swollen lips. 

He looked like a god in a man’s body, but Dipper knew that he couldn’t be more wrong.

He was reminded of this when Bill laughed suddenly and crowed, “Wow, Pine Tree, nice _magazines_ you’ve got here.”

If Dipper could have blushed any more than he already was, he would have, but instead he just scowled and muttered, “Can you hurry up?” 

“Bossy,” Bill murmured, but he was tossing the bottle of lube onto the covers and beginning to shuck off his own pants. When he was just down to briefs (black and patterned with yellow triangles, and _fuck_ if Dipper wasn’t going to make fun of those later), he climbed back onto the bed. 

As he pushed Dipper’s knees up to a better angle with one hand and popped the tube open with the other, Bill teased, “Not that you really need those magazines, huh? I know you’ve got sick fantasies of your own. I’ve seen your dreams.”

Dipper froze, a snarky reply forming on his lips, but then Bill was shoving a slicked-up finger inside of him and his words came out in the form of a garbled noise. The stretch wasn't too bad, but it didn't feel great, either. Bill grinned wickedly and climbed back on top of him, all the while moving his finger and, after only a few seconds, slipping a second one in as well. 

Dipper had slept with a guy before, but only once, and it had been at a party that Mabel had dragged him along to sometime during senior year. He had topped, but both he and the other guy had had too much alcohol in their systems to even think about getting the other's name. It wasn't Dipper's greatest moment, but at least it gave him the background to not act too horribly like a blushing virgin. 

“Y-you saw those?” Dipper forced when he could speak again. 

Bill hummed in affirmation against his neck, twisting his hand a certain angle that made Dipper keen despite the initial discomfort of the stretch. “Oh, and,” he suddenly shoved his fingers up straight into the boy’s sweet spot and a pleased cry tore from his lungs in surprise, "Before you ask, I didn’t give you those dreams. That was your own sick brain, kid.”

Bill bit gently into his collarbone, then switched to sucking on the skin. Dipper would have to wear higher-collared shirts for a while, as the demon went at his clavicle with ferocity and the obvious intent to leave as big of a mark as possible. 

Between Bill’s ever-moving fingers inside of him, twisting and scissoring in just the right places, and the demon’s hot mouth on his skin, Dipper was ready to die from overstimulation. Everywhere felt good at once and his brain just couldn’t keep up with it. 

Bill pulling back for just a second was a short-lived relief, however, because when his mouth wasn’t occupied with other things, he used it to talk, spilling words of sin right next to Dipper’s ear. “I know that you’ve wanted this for a while now, Pine Tree,” he whispered, breath ghosting over the boy’s neck. “It’s been so hard to resist, knowing that I could just,” he pulled his fingers out all the way before shoving them in again roughly, adding a third finger beside the first two, “have you whenever I wanted.” 

“Th-then,” Dipper arched his back, throwing his neck back and giving Bill the perfect spot to bite down on, “why didn’t you?”

He was practically writhing under Bill's hands now, but the demon's laughter drowned out his noises as he chuckled, "I wasn't going to take advantage of your tired, dizzy self, kid." 

"B-but wh-"

Bill pulled his fingers out then, and Dipper unintentionally let out a whine at the loss. Bill smirked down at him, even as he shucked off his boxers and his cock sprang free and he moved to slick it up. “I needed you in a clear mindset for this, Pine Tree,” he huffed, pushing Dipper’s knees up nearly to his chest and lining himself up with the boy’s entrance. 

“I wanted to make sure you know _exactly_ who’s doing this to you,” he purred before pushing in with one swift motion. 

Dipper cried out in a mix of surprise, pleasure, and pain, instinctively slapping a hand over his mouth to muffle his shout of, “ _Fuck!_ ” Bill immediately grabbed his wrist to pull his hand away, pinning it down to the bed, while his other hand landed in Dipper’s hair. 

After a second when the demon didn’t move and Dipper adjusted to the stretch, he shifted in discomfort and hissed, “Move.”

Bill laughed, leaning over Dipper so closely that the tips of his hair brushed against Dipper’s forehead. “Who’s fucking you right now, Pine Tree?” he asked, voice low. The playful tone didn’t mask the obvious lust. 

“You,” Dipper forced through his teeth as he glared, wiggling his hips a bit to try and tempt the demon into fucking _moving, holy shit_.

“Say it,” Bill growled, ducking down and nipping at Dipper’s ear. 

The demon moved his hips just slightly, as if giving Dipper a taste of what he could have if he were to obey, so Dipper bit his bottom lip and just sighed, “Bill,” a bit breathlessly. 

He pulled out almost completely before pushing back in quickly and Dipper moaned, pushing himself back against Bill in anticipation for more. But the demon did the same thing as before, just thrusting once and then waiting. “Again,” he ordered, all teasing gone from his voice. 

“Bill,” Dipper moaned once more, and the demon did not disappoint. Once Dipper realized exactly what this game was, he became more vocal, desperate to feel the blonde moving his hips against his. “Bill,” he gasped again. A rhythm picked up. “Bill, _fuck_!” 

He wasn’t sure how long this went on before the demon seemed to not be able to handle it anymore, thrusting into him with abandon and letting out soft noises of his own that he seemed to be struggling to choke back. He stopped waiting for Dipper’s prompts and just went at it, biting and sucking at the boy’s neck as he fucked him. At one point, he tugged at Dipper’s hair roughly and pulled a sultry moan from his lips. 

He stilled again, and Dipper worried that he’d done something wrong. But then Bill pushed into him roughly, hitting his prostate and making Dipper see stars as he choked out a cry. The demon picked up the rhythm again, not even bothering to be gentle and yanking even more at Dipper’s hair. 

“I knew you’d like pain,” the demon murmured by his ear. The words were teasing, but his voice sounded downright _demonic_. “I always pegged you for,” his hand released the boy’s brunette locks and moved to rake his nails down Dipper’s side, “somebody who would love to be at the mercy of someone else.” 

Bill’s hand moved down between them to wrap around the boy’s cock, movements lubricated by the precum leaking from the tip. “I’m sure you’d just love to be completely _helpless,_ Pine Tree,” he continued, and Dipper couldn’t even keep his eyes open anymore. His head was thrown back and he was using all of his willpower to not moan too loudly. “I could make you feel like that, you know. Bind you and have my way with you.” A whimper escaped his mouth at that, and he still didn’t open his eyes, but he was sure that Bill was cocking an eyebrow and grinning. A particular thrust hit his prostate again, and the noise ripped from his lungs before he could stop it. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Dipper? Being unable to do anything while _I_ decide what to do with you? You could just give in, not think about anything for a while. Let me control you.”

Bill’s thrusts were getting more erratic, and with the combined movements of his hand on Dipper’s length, the boy didn’t think he could last much longer. “Christ, Bill-” 

“I could do _whatever I want_ with you, Pine Tree,” Bill interrupted him, his own words breaking off with a moan. He must have been as far gone as Dipper was. “I’ve told you that before, haven’t I? Well, I mean it.” He twisted his hand a certain way and Dipper’s eyes rolled back into his head for just a moment. “You’d look so pretty tied up. All of this pale skin on display, ready to be marked up. Oh, what I’d do to you if I had you like that.” Dipper had no idea how Bill was still talking with how breathless he sounded. The demon’s words were affecting him in ways that he didn’t want to think about, and he knew that _he_ wouldn’t have been able to spew such sultry lines in this state. 

Bill’s voice was low and breathy but still so confident when he continued, “I could mark you up even more, so that nobody would _ever_ make the mistake of touching what belongs to me again. I could fuck you like _this_ ,” he moved his hips at a different angle, then, and it tore a gasp from the teen’s lips. “Or, I could let somebody else fuck you. You _are_ mine, after all.” 

That should have unnerved Dipper, scared him, but instead, it was the thing to push him over the edge. Colors flashed behind his closed eyes and he choked out Bill’s name as he came, spilling his seed all over Bill’s hand and his stomach. The demon stroked him through it and followed close behind, his hips stuttering as he finished inside of the boy, moaning, “Pine Tree,” in a way that only a porn star should have been able to manage. 

The stayed like that for a long moment, both panting and coming down from the aftershocks. Dipper's eyes slipped open slowly, only to find that the demon's were now closed. When Bill pulled his cock out, the boy cringed, and he was relieved with the demon got up to grab tissues to clean them off. His body was spent, and he didn't feel like he was going to be able to move for a long time. 

He didn't protest when Bill awkwardly dabbed his stomach clean with the tissues. He still felt gross and sticky, but he was too tired to deal with it right now. 

He almost didn't expect Bill to return to the bed with him, but he couldn't help but feel relieved when the mattress dipped with the familiar weight. 

Dipper was laying on the comforter, and shook his head when the demon told him to get up for a moment. Bill rolled his eyes, sighed, and yanked the blanket out from underneath him like he was a butler pulling off a tablecloth without disturbing the cutlery. Dipper yelped, flying up about an inch before crashing back down on the bed, but he was subdued with the demon laid back down next to him and pulled the comforter over both of them.

As Bill's hand found his hair and brought his head to rest in the crook of the demon's neck, Dipper realized that they would have to have a talk about this in the morning. A serious talk. 

But not right now. Not when Bill's arms were warm around him and he was taking in the demon's smell of sweat and musk and _sex_.

"Y'know, it's like, not even ten o'clock," Dipper murmured, voice muffled by the blonde's skin. He brought one arm up to lazily drape around Bill's waist.

Bill's hand stilled in his hair. "So?" he asked. The teen was relieved to hear that his voice had returned to normal- well, human normal- and that all hints of the demonic possessiveness from before were gone.

"It's _New Year's Eve_ ," Dipper groaned. He couldn't keep his eyes open anymore. "And there's no way I'll be making it up 'til midnight. We're the lamest." 

Bill chuckled, probably amused at Dipper's use of the word 'lamest' and probably thinking that he had been spending too much time with his sister, but he just muttered, "Human traditions are stupid anyways."

Dipper wanted to point out how what they just did probably constituted as 'human tradition,' but as he wasn't exactly clear on what _demon_ traditions were, he kept his mouth shut so as to not sound stupid. He had a whole list of witty comebacks floating around in his brain, but he was already slipping out of consciousness. Whether that was by natural means or because he was sleeping with a dream demon, he didn't know, but when Bill's arms tightened around him, he couldn't really bring himself to care.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

Things returned to a semi-normalcy the next day, more than Dipper would have expected.

Mabel didn't return home until late afternoon, a flush in her cheeks and a skip in her step that indicated that everything had gone well with Pacifica. Whatever that entailed, Dipper never got the chance to ask, because she was on him practically the second she walked through the door, asking for the juicy details.

Dipper spared her as many as possible, but that didn't stop her from squealing by the end of his story.

Things between he and Bill remained the same save for how the demon now sat a bit closer when he hung around and sent Dipper much more suggestive glances. Their touches were brief, stolen, but they'd send shivers down Dipper's spine nonetheless and he'd spend hours chastising himself for it.

Mabel spent the next few days with her maybe-girlfriend before she left for Europe. She moped slightly when she returned to the Shack after bidding the girl farewell at the airport, but Dipper knew that she was secretly relieved that Pacifica was out of town for whatever storm was coming.

And something _was_ coming. That much was evident. There was a certain electricity in the air, and it wasn't from the spark of _whatever_ was going on between he and Bill.

Gravity Falls had gotten even weirder in the course of a few days, if that was possible. On the second day of the year, Dipper spent the morning in the woods at the perfect time to be witness to a massive earthquake. It had been bad enough to knock down several large trees, but when Dipper made his way back to town, it seemed that nobody else had felt it.

Dipper threw himself into researching small-scale earthquakes.

The quake seemed to stir things up underground. Within the next few days, the town was practically crawling with creatures that Dipper had only heard of in the Journal. 

Somebody must have passed his phone number around, because soon enough, his phone was ringing off the hook with questions about whether or not he knew how to get rid of eagle-sized butterflies, if he knew why Sheriff Blubs' house was overrun by leprechauns, and if he could please, _please_ come get the wyvern out of the public pool (“Yes, Mr. Pines, we _know_ it’s not pool season, but he’s not welcome nonetheless!”).

On top of all of that, multiple people had reported gravitational anomalies and none of Dipper’s research added up to any reasonable conclusions. 

Vepnihr hadn't come to steal him away yet, but frankly, Dipper was ready to get the confrontation out of the way. He had no idea if he was even close to a level in which he stood a semblance of a chance against a _demon_ , but it had to be better than being a paranoid mess and jumping at every noise.

“Hey, Dipper.” 

Mabel’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts. He glanced at his sister, who was stocking inventory across the giftshop while he sat behind the counter. He raised an eyebrow.

She set down the box she was holding and walked over to him with a frown, her hands playing with her hair. Dipper brought his feet down from the counter and sat up immediately. “What’s wrong?”

She leaned onto the counter, worry in her eyes. “Have you… noticed anything weird about Grunkle Stan lately?”

Dipper looked around the giftshop immediately, as though the man might be standing there. When he wasn’t, the boy frowned at his twin. “Weirder than usual?”

“Don’t joke,” she murmured, oddly serious. “I just… last night, I came down to the kitchen to get a drink. It was pretty late. Maybe one in the morning? And the TV in the living room was still on, but Stan wasn’t there. So I went to check his room, to see if he went to bed and forgot to turn it off, but he wasn’t there. He wasn’t in the kitchen, either, or the bathroom.” 

“So?” Dipper frowned. 

“So where would he have been if he wasn’t in the house that late at night?” Mabel exclaimed. She practically jumped back from the counter, throwing her arms up in a wide gesture as if that somehow emphasized her thoughts. “He’s an old man, Dipper! Where would he have gone?” 

“I…” He fumbled for the words, and when he couldn’t find any, he realized just how right his sister was. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Do you think we should ask?”

“No,” Mabel answered immediately, shaking her head. “Let’s just… keep an eye on him for now, alright?” 

Dipper nodded his affirmation. “Sure thing.”

They fell back into work, Sidney and Connor coming in shortly and Mabel bailing out to go back to sleep. The Shack was pretty dead, save for the tour that Stan had out. They had had a few rush days around the holiday, but by the fifth day of the year, most people in town for family had already gone back home. 

He had set his phone to ignore calls while he was working, but when he stole a glance at it under the counter after a few hours of work, he saw that he had a dozen voicemails. Surely more people who needed his expertise in dealing with some creature or another. This had been what he wanted, right? People to revere him and call on him to deal with the paranormal. He just hadn’t expected all of it at once. 

“I’m gonna take my break now,” Dipper called to his coworkers. They were playing hacky sack in a mostly-open area of the giftshop (Grunkle Stan still would have skinned them alive if he had seen it, though), and Connor sighed but came to take his position behind the counter. 

He hurried into the breakroom. The door slammed behind him and he only had a second to react as somebody stepped up behind him and attempted to slam him against the wall. He pivoted and swung his fist with as much force as the temporary adrenaline rush gave him. 

His fist slammed right into Bill’s jaw and he swore as the demon was knocked back. 

“Oh, fuck,” he cursed, immediately going to pull the blonde’s hands away from where they had flown up to his face. 

“Great foreplay, kid,” Bill said flatly, eyes glowing in amusement despite the blood forming on his lip. 

“Shit, don’t sneak up on me like that!” the boy cried in his defense, pushing Bill gently until the demon’s back hit the wall. He ran a thumb over Bill’s swollen lip, swiping up the small amount of blood, and when he pulled his hand back, Bill was watching him with wide, blown eyes. 

Dipper resisted the urge to roll his eyes. _Of course_ that would have gotten Bill going. 

The demon was still staring at the blood on Dipper’s thumb, and in a moment of what felt like confidence but was probably just craziness, Dipper brought his hand up to his mouth and licked the blood away, all the while locking eyes with Bill. The blood was tangy and metallic and absolutely _not_ Dipper’s thing (frankly, he had to fight not to cringe as he swallowed it simply to get the taste out of his mouth), but Bill seemed to shiver before growling possessively and threading his fingers through Dipper’s hair, crushing his mouth to his. 

Dipper kissed him back hesitantly, wary of hurting Bill’s lip that he had just _punched_ , but the pain just seemed to fuel the demon, who was nipping at the teen’s lip as if he had the goal of making _him_ bleed, as well. He couldn’t help but think about the swapped positions here, with him practically caging Bill against the wall, but with the way the demon’s hand was gripping his hair like it was meant to be a handhold, there was no question about who was in charge. 

He pulled back from the kiss after just a few seconds, tilting his head back and away when Bill growled and tried to reclaim his lips. “Oh, no,” he laughed, and Bill’s eyes fluttered opened, having gone almost black once more. Dipper tried not to shiver at the look of desire in them. “I’m _working_ right now. But it seems like you’ve got a bit of a problem, huh?” He shoved his knee up between Bill’s thighs and the demon gasped, his hand tightening on Dipper’s hair and eyes narrowing. Dipper laughed again. “Guess you’ll have to take care of that yours-”

Bill cut him off when he yanked his hair back and a choked whimper came out instead of his teasing words. “You talk too much, Pine Tree,” Bill hissed, leaning close. His free hand landed on Dipper’s hip, slightly sliding up his shirt, and Dipper reveled in the sensation of the leather glove on his bare skin. “Maybe you need to put your mouth to better use.”

Dipper spluttered out something incomprehensible as his face heated up and his confidence dwindled. Bill laughed but raised an eyebrow, and despite Dipper knowing that this was _a bad idea, holy shit, you’re at work!_ , he dropped to his knees.

\-----

“Again. That tree this time.” 

Dipper sighed but complied nonetheless, aiming his attack at a different grayscale tree. Practicing magic in the mindscape now seemed pointless when compared to actual training in the waking realm, but according to Bill, he needed all of the training he could get- and that included while he was asleep. 

The tree was struck down easily enough, and when Bill gave a sarcastic slow-clap, Dipper turned an agitated glare on him. “What? I knocked it down.” 

“Simply _knocking_ Vepnihr down won’t help you much, kid,” Bill replied snarkily, shifting his weight back and crossing his arms. Dipper resisted the urge to aim his next attack at _him_ instead. 

The fact that they were friends- or friends with benefits, whatever- didn't mean that Bill couldn't still get on his nerves.

“I’m taking a break,” he muttered. Bill didn’t look pleased but didn’t argue either way. 

When Dipper phased into the manner, the demon followed. The teen collapsed into an overly-large armchair in the parlor, but Bill strode past him to the staircase. Dipper followed him with his eyes, frowning and calling out, “Where are you going?”

“I need to do some digging while I’m in here,” Bill muttered, almost inaudibly from the distance he had cleared so quickly. “See if I can pinpoint when Vepnihr came into your life.”

Dipper fumbled to get to his feet, running after the demon and nearly tripping on the oriental rug in the entryway. “Wait!” he called as he made it to the top of the first staircase. Bill was already striding down the hall and to the staircase leading to the top floor. “You can’t just snoop around in my mind!” 

Bill stopped so suddenly that Dipper nearly ran into him. He whirled around. “You _want_ that demon to kill you and your family, Pine Tree?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow.

Dipper frowned but didn’t answer, and Bill took that as an affirmative to keep going. 

When they made it to the top floor, the demon went immediately for Dipper's hall of his more private memories. Dipper didn't stop him. The lock on the door was still broken from the last time. 

Besides, Dipper knew all of those memories all too well- the ones that would never leave his mind, because they were all filled with fear and shame. He didn't know what Bill was looking for, but he wasn't going to find it in there. 

Dipper followed close behind the blonde as he made his way down the hall, peering at the names written on the doors. The teen was slightly surprised when Bill didn't stop to look into some of the more embarrassing ones.

Bill stopped just a few feet from the end of the hallway, just staring at the very last door. Dipper could tell why; it was covered in locks and deadbolts, more so than the door to the whole hallway had been, and there was also a light blue coating of magic protecting it. 

"What is _that_?" Bill asked with a frown. He strode up to it and waved a hand to break the locks off. Dipper let him. He knew that the demon's magic wouldn't be able to undo his on this one; he had worked way too hard to lock up that memory. 

"Something I'd rather not remember," Dipper murmured softly, casting his eyes away.

Bill turned to look at him. Something dangerous flashed in his eyes. "What _is_ it, Pine Tree? If this has something to do with Vepnihr, then I _have_ to see it."

"No!" Dipper objected immediately. "It's not! It's- it's about my sister. It's about Mabel. It doesn't..." he trailed off. His breath caught. 

No. No way.

" _What_ , Pine Tree?" the demon demanded, stepping forward and grabbing Dipper's wrist. 

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. It couldn't be. 

He shook off the demon's grasp and made his way to the door, running a hand over it and murmuring, " _Recludam._ " The blue glow faded and the locks opened one by one until the door handle was exposed and ready to be opened. 

Dipper's hand shook as it landed on the handle. He felt Bill move eerily close as he pulled the door open and the demon slid up next to him to watch.

The memory started up, and although Dipper desperately wanted to shut his eyes, they felt glued open. He hadn’t watched the Incident in years, but he used to watch it over and over again, seeing where he had gone wrong and hating himself more and more each time for failing to protect his sister. 

The memory versions of Dipper and Mabel were climbing up a rocky pass, Dipper with a book brought nearly all the way up to his face and Mabel continuously stopping to admire the view. They were fifteen and awkward, Mabel with hips she hadn’t grown into yet and Dipper’s limbs all a bit too-long. Both of them had acne and somewhat greasy hair. It wasn’t a good look for them, and seeing himself like that made Dipper feel a bit self-conscious. He knew that Bill didn’t really care, though, and that the demon was much more interested in seeing what had made this memory so important that it had to be locked up with the best of Dipper's magical abilities.

The nineteen-year-old watched as fifteen-year-old he and Mabel started bickering as they did so often. Dipper was chastising her for stopping so much and Mabel was retorting that he had forgotten how to have fun. After a few shouts, Mabel had regarded him with teary eyes and decided to just sit on a log and wait for him to get back because she no longer wanted to explore with him. 

That had just made Dipper more angry. The bickering turned more heated than their usual arguments and that was when Dipper made his fatal mistake: running off and leaving Mabel alone and without a weapon or a spellbook or anything that she could have used to defend herself.

When she started screaming his name a few minutes later, he was much further up the path and at first ignored her calls for help. It had taken him a few long moments, too long, to realize that she was actually in danger and come running back. 

By then, it was too late. 

Dipper felt sick watching this, hit with a sudden hatred for his younger self.

By the time he had made it back to his sister, the harpy had already swiped its claws down Mabel’s face and across her throat and was approaching again to finish the job. 

“Dip-” Mabel’s voice cut off as blood began to pool out of her throat and she stumbled backwards, collapsing onto the ground. The harpy followed, claws out. Despite literally bleeding out, Mabel lifted a leg and jammed a booted foot right into the creature’s face, knocking it back a few feet. 

It stalled the harpy long enough for Dipper to get there and he didn’t even think before he was ripping a makeshift shiv out of his bag and driving it into the creature’s neck. It cried out in a mix of pain and surprise and it quickly swiped at Dipper, grazing his chest and just narrowly missing actually digging into his flesh. 

He swore and jumped back, stumbling a bit and nearly falling- something that would have ended this much quicker. Instead, he looked around for a weapon, knowing that there was nothing else in his bag that would have helped (after this, he would start carrying actual knives). 

The harpy looked furious. Its wings had been thrust out and its face had somehow contorted into something even more monstrous than before. Its eyes were red and its skin was more wrinkles than anything else, its hair like gray seaweed. The shiv still stuck out of the side of its neck, not really having affected it much more than as an annoyance. It came for Dipper with claws out, lips drawn back in a snarl, and in a moment of panic, he turned and ran to draw it as far away from Mabel as possible. 

He had hardly made it more than a few steps before he heard the tell-tale sign of wings flapping and the creature taking off into the air, and he remembered, _Oh, right. Harpies fly._ He froze dead in his tracks, whirling around and throwing an arm up to shield his face uselessly as it hissed and came down on him. 

The attack never came, for the harpy stopped an inch away from Dipper’s face as a weak voice rang out, “Hey, buttface!” and a large rock slammed into the back of the creature’s head. 

The harpy’s face contorted in anger and pain as it practically fell to the ground, wings retracting. Dipper thought quickly and ripped the shiv out of its neck, making it cry out again. 

The rock must have stunned it more than anything else- now more than ever, Dipper was so relieved that his sister could throw much better than he could- for its eyes were a bit glazed over despite the rage obvious on its features. Dipper used this moment of shock to his advantage and drove the shiv into the harpy’s jugular. 

Blood flowed from the wound as he pulled the shiv out and the harpy screeched as its clawed fingers reached first for Dipper and then up to cover the wound. 

He threw morals out the window as he kicked the creature down. “Nobody touches my sister,” he snarled as he drove his foot down onto the harpy’s head. 

There was a sickening crack and a splatter of blood and it was over. In the mindscape, Dipper felt Bill twitch next to him. 

In the memory, the fifteen-year-old dropped his makeshift weapon, now covered in an almost black blood, and ran over to fall to his knees next to his twin. He was swearing loudly, a mix of curses and pleas and begging for somebody or something to help him. Mabel’s eyes had long since slid shut. She was still breathing, but they were coming in short spasms of her chest. The wound on her neck looked deep, and Dipper couldn’t believe that she hadn’t choked on her own blood yet. 

He ripped his flannel off and used his foot to pin it to the ground while he pulled it up, tearing it into several pieces. He used it to apply pressure to the spot on Mabel’s head and the one on her neck, but he was shaking so badly that it was a wonder he was even able to. He was screaming, but it was all nonsense that present-day Dipper couldn’t make out despite having relived the moment many times. 

Memory Mabel was losing blood way too fast, and Memory Dipper knew that. That was why, after a moment of futilely trying to stop the bleeding using only a torn-up shirt and his shaky hands, he forced himself to move away from his sister’s body and grab his messenger bag with bloodstained hands. 

He pulled the book out instantly and was suddenly thanking every deity ever thought-up that he always carried the book with him in case it was ever needed. He crawled over to the discarded shiv and shuddered as he wiped it off on his jeans, desperately wishing for some kind of disinfectant or something. Doing this was dangerous enough- and now he was seriously risking an infection. Who knew what was in harpy blood. 

He flipped to a bookmarked page and, leaning over his sister, sliced his palm open. 

In present time, Bill stiffened. Dipper couldn’t speak, but he turned his attention to watching the demon’s reactions to the memory. Bill had a wicked poker face, and it killed Dipper to not know what he was thinking. 

The memory flickered slightly as Dipper read an incantation with shaky breaths. His hand bled out at a worryingly rapid pace, slightly onto the pages and slightly onto his sister, who had stopped moving- and _breathing_ \- altogether. He stumbled over the Latin a bit, as he was far from knowing it fluently, but after a few lines, a different voice seemed to take over for him. It was still his, but deeper and more clear. 

More _demonic_ , nineteen-year-old Dipper was realizing way too late. 

The sky darkened. Complete silence grew in the air, only broken by not-Dipper muttering the incantation. Memory Dipper thought that this was just a side effect of the magic- an old spell. He was sure that this was all coming from within. 

If only he had learned about the energy exchange involved in magic earlier and realized that there was no way he was doing that without some sort of help. 

Slowly and surely, the cut on Mabel’s throat closed up, not even leaving a scar, and Dipper grew silent. He hadn’t worked fast enough to completely heal the cut on her face, and while the blood clotted quickly so she stopped bleeding, it was still harsh and red and would require medical treatment. 

But his sister was alive. That was all that mattered. 

The memory grew black as it drew to a close. Bill’s breathing had changed, grown more heavy, and Dipper took a step back from him as the door slammed shut. 

“I don’t remember that happening,” Bill hissed quietly, eyes red as he glared accusingly at Dipper. “Why is that, Pine Tree?”

This was it. This was going to be how Dipper died: taken out by a jealous, possessive demon who had staked claim over him a long time ago and was angry that he had the gall to go (albeit accidentally) make a deal with another demon.

“Because of how many protection spells I used to lock up the memory,” Dipper mumbled. His chest and throat burned. It had been so long since he had seen the memory- seen how he had practically left his sister to die- and it still made him sick to his stomach. 

Bill didn’t look satisfied with that answer. “I’ve spent enough time digging around in Shooting Star’s head that that should have popped up at some point.”

Ignoring the wariness that came with knowing that Bill poked around in Mabel’s mind and taking a shaky breath, Dipper quietly replied, “Mabel doesn’t remember.” 

Bill visibly froze, his heaving chest ceasing movement altogether. “ _What_?”

“I sealed her memories. She thinks that she fell on rocks and cut her face open. That’s what I told her when she woke up in the hospital, and since she couldn’t remember anything, she accepted it.”

He had never forgiven himself for it, but he still believed that it had been the best thing to do.

Bill stared at him for a long moment before he visibly shivered. Dipper could practically see the magic flowing through him as he struggled to maintain his calm. He strode past Dipper and the boy could _feel_ the rage radiating off of him. 

“Where did you get that book? The spellbook you used?” the demon called back, still not turning around. His voice was terrifyingly calm, but Dipper was pretty close to certain that Bill was on the verge of actually killing him.

At this point, Dipper would have let him. He couldn’t believe that he had never realized. 

Bill’s rage was the same frightening possessiveness that had come after Vepnihr touched Dipper at the party, but now that he knew that the entire Vepnihr situation was Dipper’s fault, it was no wonder that Bill had turned the anger on him.

“I… I found it.” 

The mindscape warped around them and Dipper held back his yelp of surprise as they fell into a void not unlike the Bottomless Pit. He calmed when he remembered that this was just Bill’s intimidation method and that he could stand perfectly fine, as if there was actual ground there. 

He started to freak out a tad bit more when he actually saw the anger on Bill’s face and blue flames erupted around them.

“ _Where_ did you find it, Pine Tree?” he snarled. He was clenching his fists at his sides, and Dipper was relieved when he didn’t approach him.

“It was hidden in the walls of the Shack,” Dipper admitted. He didn’t realize that he was shaking until his voice quivered. “I never told Grunkle Stan. He would have thought it was too dangerous for me to have.” After the Incident, Dipper had burned the book. It was covered in his blood and it was too risky that Mabel would have found out and realized that Dipper had broken one of their key rules- no blood sacrifices. 

Their other key rule was no demonic deals, and Dipper had really missed the mark on that one. Twice. Three times, including the Bipper incident.

“And it _was_ , obviously,” Bill hissed. He muttered something to himself, and Dipper could hear a clear curse towards Stan- though the boy wasn’t sure why. Had it even been his uncle’s book in the first place? Why would Grunkle Stan have even had it?

Bill seemed to flicker for just a second, and Dipper wondered if he was struggling to hold onto his human form in his anger. 

This was the first time in a while that Bill’s rage was actually directed at _him_ , and Dipper had forgotten how terrifying it was. 

“Do you have _any_ idea what you summoned?” the demon growled. It wasn’t really a question. He took a step closer to Dipper and the teen fought not to flinch. 

The blue flames crept ever-closer, and for once, Dipper could feel the heat radiating off of them.

“I do now,” he muttered uselessly. “At the time I thought it was just- just dark magic.” 

“Oh, it was,” Bill laughed bitterly. He took a shaky breath as he tried to compose himself and shifted back, running a hand through his hair. “Practically necromancy, kid. I’m willing to bet your sister was already dead and gone and Vepnihr was just doing you a solid by reviving her. He could have brought her back as a zombie, and you wouldn’t have been able to do anything about it, because you were a fucking _kid_ who just couldn’t keep his nose out of things that didn’t concern him.” 

Bill moved ever closer with his words until he was nearly pressed up against Dipper. The boy flinched, but this time, it wasn’t out of fear.

“What does it mean, though?” he asked softly. His heart was pounding loudly in his ears. He feared Bill’s answer.

“That spell was pretty loose, but still binding. As he didn’t approach you immediately to make a deal, you practically just agreed to anything he wants.” Bill took a step back. Dipper wondered if his eyes would ever fade back to their normal gold. 

“So-”

“So, you do what he wants, or your sister is dead.” 

The words felt like a slap in the face. Bill, who had been so adamant about marking Dipper up and staking his claim and making sure that no other demon touched him, seemed to just be giving up. Dipper considered that maybe Bill just didn't care about him anymore- decided that he was too stupid to be dealt with. It hurt, but thinking about the alternative- that Bill was giving in because even _he_ didn't know what to do- was even more frightening.

The flames had encircled them closely enough that there was hardly any room for Dipper to move without hurting himself. At Bill’s words, though, he wasn’t sure it would even matter; if that was really the case, then Dipper was practically dead. He was going to become Vepnihr’s slave. 

“I’m sorry.” The words were broken and desperate and he was expecting it when Bill gave him a cold stare. “I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“You never seem to,” Bill spit, and Dipper flinched again. 

He reached out for the demon and Bill vanished. Dipper screamed as the blue flames overtook him and he woke up with tears drying on his face.

Just as things had been fixed between he and Bill, this had to happen. And this time, Dipper was sure it couldn’t be fixed by a serious conversation and a half-asleep hug. But he had bigger issues to worry about than his love life. 

What was he going to tell Mabel?


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super dialogue-heavy. But necessary. Whoops.

If it was possible for one person's world to come crashing down while the rest of the universe remained in stasis, then that was precisely what happened to Dipper over the next few days.

He knew that Mabel knew by the next morning. There was a tired, detached look in her eyes over breakfast that was concerning enough for even Grunkle Stan to question. Dipper remained silent. He didn't need affirmation for what he was already certain of. 

Bill had unlocked her memories.

He had forced Dipper into a position where he could do nothing but face his problems head-on- not that he would have chosen to do anything but at this point. Skirting around issues hadn't worked out too well for him. 

Breakfast passed in a tense quiet, and for once, Mabel was the first one to leave the table. She dropped her dishes into the sink in a _clink_ of metal before swiftly exiting the kitchen, her eyes never once having met Dipper's. The boy was on his feet in an instant to go after her, shooting Grunkle Stan an apologetic glance before taking off down the hall with his breakfast left untouched. 

She ignored his calls of her name all the way down the hall and didn’t turn to face him until she was slamming the door in his face and he was just barely shoving a foot in her room to block it. 

Her teary-eyed, broken gaze hit him like a sack of bricks. Anger he could deal with. _Hatred_ he could probably deal with. But the distant, shattered look in her eyes was not something that Dipper would have ever expected to see from his normally-joyous sister. 

“Please let me in,” he whispered, staring at her with what he was sure was a broken look of his own. It felt like all of the air had left his lungs. 

What had he really anticipated? Did he really think that he could keep this a secret from her forever?

No. No, he didn’t, but he had hoped.

When Mabel dropped her hand from the door and took a step back, Dipper suspected it was less because she wanted to and more because she was too exhausted to argue about it. There were dark circles under her eyes that made her look even more like a twin to him. 

He followed her into her room and shut the door quietly behind him. She sat on the edge of her bed and stared at her hands as they played nervously with the hem of her sweater. Dipper remained standing. 

He took a shaky breath. “I’m-”

“Don’t say you’re sorry.” Her voice was emotionless, unreadable. She didn’t look at him, instead staring at a spot on the wall behind him. 

Dipper didn’t know what else he could say. He didn’t even know where to start, so he just remained silent and watched as Mabel seemed to have an internal struggle.

“I _died_ ,” she practically whispered eventually, still staring at her own hands. 

“Well, uh, not technically,” Dipper managed weakly. His hands grasped loosely at his sweatpants. “I’m pretty sure your heart never actually stopped, so-” He broke off when she turned a glare on him. Right. 

“I _would have_ died,” Mabel corrected herself, looking as if she was trying to remain annoyed at Dipper, but failing when the end of her sentence broke off with a whimper. Dipper moved instinctively towards her, but when she flinched, he shrunk back and tried not to think about how badly it stung. 

Her eyes snapped up to him. They were shining with tears. “I can’t believe that you… did that.”

His chest ached. “God, Mabel, I can’t even begin to-”

“Not that,” she interrupted. She stood, and Dipper resisted the urge to reach out and steady her when she swayed a bit. “You… you practically _sold your soul_ to save me, Dipper. Even if you didn’t know.”

“Well, yeah.” He offered her a weak smile. She didn’t return it; her expression was still blank. “I’d do anything for you, Mabes.”

Her lip quivered, stuck out in a half-pout. “Well- well you shouldn’t, Dipstick!” she cried suddenly, and despite the tenseness of the situation, Dipper was relieved to hear emotion back in her voice. “You- I- I don’t want you to sacrifice yourself for me, dummy!” 

"I wasn't going to let you _die_ , Mabel!"

Judging by the way his sister jumped and the way his throat ached a bit, Dipper realized that that had come out a lot louder than he had intended it to. They both froze, listening for the tell-tale sound of their great uncle's footsteps as he came to investigate, and when the noise didn't come, they let out a sigh of relief in unison. Grunkle Stan was too old to be learning that his great niece had nearly died and that his great nephew had unwittingly made a deal with a demon to save her. 

Mabel didn't say anything. She was shaking, her small hands balled into fists at her sides, multi-colored nails biting into her palms. Dipper wished she would get more angry. Scream some more. Hit him. That was what he deserved.

Her lack of response was even worse.

When it became clear that Mabel wasn't going to speak- other than the soft, broken noises that came choked out as she fought not to cry- Dipper breathed, "Please don't hate me."

Her eyes widened and tears flowed freely down her face, though she had to be applauding herself for not breaking down into a full-on sob yet. Dipper knew that _he_ sure wanted to. “I don’t hate you, Dipper,” she said softly, though her tone was questionable. “I- I just- I can’t believe you would-” After several more failed attempts to speak her mind, she broke off and brought her hands up to rub her face. 

Once again, Dipper resisted his gut instinct to reach out and comfort his sister. _You’re the problem here_ , he reminded himself. He had spent many hours in high school sitting with his twin as she cried over stupid boys who had led her on or cheated on her or just been assholes in general, and each time, Dipper had wanted to punch those guys in the face. What was he supposed to do now that he was the source of his sister’s tears?

When she brought her hands down, her eyes were clear (albeit a bit blown and bloodshot). She took a breath, seemingly having steadied herself. “Why didn’t you want me to know?” she asked, voice clear and unjudging and much better than he deserved, but still not masking the hurt that she was feeling. 

“I-” This time, it was his turn to break off without the words to say. He didn’t have a good excuse. His spiel about _I wanted to protect you_ was lame and overdone and just bullshit at this point. But his sister, his _twin_ , was still staring at him with eyes wide and expectant as if he could say something that would excuse his actions. 

“Because I was scared,” he admitted eventually. He wasn’t trying to play the sympathy card. It just felt like honesty was the best path at this point when lying had only proven to blow up in his face. Or come back to bite him in the ass three and a half years later. 

“And you think I wasn’t?” Mabel responded quickly, easily, her eyes brimming with truth and acceptance that Dipper really hadn’t earned. She didn’t hate him, but he sure wished she would.

He blinked. It hadn’t exactly been the response he had anticipated. 

“Dipper, I-” She took another breath, running one hand up to shove her hair out of her face and push her bangs back. “Do you have any idea how scary it was for me when you suddenly just shut me out and stopped taking me places with you? When you wouldn’t let me go into the woods anymore?”

Dipper itched with a familiar feeling of guilt that had been eating away at him for years. He wanted to cast his eyes downwards, avoid the stare of his honest and good sister and _oh god, why had he had to drag Mabel into all of this_ , but he kept his gaze locked with his twin’s. 

Mabel continued, “I thought you had- had joined a _gang_ , or something. Or a cult, more likely, because what kind of gang would let _you_ in?”

“Hey-”

“And _then_ I started thinking that maybe you had made a deal with Bill.”

That shut him up, his retort dying on his lips. “Wh… what?” Had Mabel really predicted it so early?

Did Bill really have predestined dibs on him? Was it so obvious to everybody that he would have gone running to the demon for something at some point?

Mabel nodded solemnly. “I thought maybe you finally took him up on that offer of universal knowledge, or something, and that he had enslaved you in return. That was part of why I took up research and magic training by myself- in case it ever got out of hand and I had to stop him to protect you."

Dipper wondered if his sister realized the irony of her own words- that she was practically saying that she would have sacrificed herself to save him (because there was no way an inexperienced, fifteen-year-old Mabel would have stood a chance against Bill had she actually had to fight him) when she had just been chastising him for wanting to do the same for her. He didn't press that, though, instead trying to lighten the mood a bit by smiling and joking, "When did you stop thinking that?"

Her expression darkened. "I never did."

He practically shivered at the words as he nodded in realization. “Right.” He shifted uncomfortably. “So, uh… did Bill say anything to you? When he- y’know?”

“He just came up to me in the mindscape last night,” she murmured. “He was really mad. Like, on-fire mad. And I think he just said, ‘Sorry about this, Shooting Star,’ and that was it.” 

Dipper took a shaky breath. “And then you… remembered?”

Mabel looked torn as she quietly responded, “Sorta. The door appeared in my mindscape and after I watched it, it was back in my head as if I had never forgotten about it.” 

Dipper was hit with a whole new wave of guilt at that. He had no idea. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how overwhelming it would be to find out that he had nearly _died_ and then had completely forgotten about it. 

“How did you know that it was me who-”

“I just sorta figured.” She smiled sadly. “You’re too protective for your own good, Dipstick.”

He tried to return the smile but was sure it came out as more of a grimace. “And you’re too forgiving for _your_ own good, Mabes.”

Her eyes widened a bit comically as she frowned, then stepped forward long enough to punch his arm with a little more force than would have come from just a ‘playful punch.’ “You think that I forgive you for this? No way, bro-se! You’re going to be racking up good-brother points until we’re eighty if you want me to even _consider_ forgiving you!” 

Dipper frowned at that despite knowing that he deserved it and much worse, and brought his hand up to rub at his arm. “Mabel, I… Seriously, I’m so sorry. You can’t even begin to imagine how sorry I am.”

The same heartbreakingly sad smile reappeared on his twin’s face. “I know, Dippin-Dot. I know.”

\-----

While their relationship remained a bit strained after that, they were still twins, and overall, Dipper knew that not much would change.

He spent the next twenty-four hours reviewing old spell books and practicing magic whenever he wasn’t working. He assured Mabel that _yeah, of course I’m sleeping!_ , but in reality, he was too afraid to face his nightmares. 

He had spent nearly a week now sleeping next to Bill without any chance of Vepnihr getting into his dreamscape, and before that, he had been untouchable in Piedmont for two weeks. With three weeks of no nightmares, he was sure that whatever Vepnihr could conjure up now would be worse than anything else he’d seen, and at this point, Dipper wasn’t sure he could deal with them. 

By the next night, he had succeeded in lighting his room on fire _twice_ (quite ironically, as Vepnihr starting a fire in the Shack had been what had started this whole scenario in the first place) and had yet to improve his magic skills at all. Trying to train by himself had proved harder than he had expected, and he was too nervous to ask Mabel to train with him. He needed Bill, as much as he hated to admit it.

They closed up the Shack at five sharp and Dipper was quick to make himself a cup of coffee and retreat to the attic. He ignored Mabel's pointed stare and hurried up to his room.

Seeing the figure perched on his dresser only gave him a _minor_ heart attack before he realized that it was just Bill, looking just as he did the first time Dipper came across him in the waking world. Dipper shut the door quietly behind him as Bill jumped down from the dresser, his expression solemn. 

The blonde cleared the distance between them quickly, and though Dipper perhaps should have felt more threatened based on Bill's anger from before, he remained still. He only jumped a little bit when Bill shoved him into the door and his coffee splashed over the rim of the mug and onto the floor. 

Bill's lips covered his in a swift, unmoving kiss. Dipper froze, the feeling of the demon's lips cold and firm and not at all like what they had felt like before. Still, Dipper allowed his eyes to slip shut, but the second he tried to move his mouth against Bill's, the demon pulled back and away. 

Dipper tried to steady both his breathing and his coffee cup (now only about three-fourths full) as he eyed up the demon, who was regarding him with an emotionless stare. There was no lust, no wanting, in his eyes, but there wasn't rage, either. His eyes were a calm gold but they burned into Dipper. 

"You here to kill me?" Dipper joked, despite that still being a definite possibility. He took a sip of his coffee in hopes that he would look casual and slightly less panicked, but his hand was trembling and a bit of it sloshed down onto his t-shirt when he lifted the brim to his mouth. 

Bill rocked back on his heels. His thumbs were tucked into the pockets of his slacks, and Dipper didn't like this at all. The tenseness. Bill never stood this far away. Bill never kept his hands to himself. 

"No." The blonde took a deep breath, staring at the ceiling for a long moment before returning his gaze to Dipper. "I'm here to say goodbye."

Dipper's heart sank into his stomach. So Bill really was giving up on him, then.

He forced himself to nod. "You're... getting out of Gravity Falls, then?"

Bill looked hesitant, but he nodded. His eyes were guarded. "Yes. The barrier around Gravity Falls... is going to be down. Just for an hour. It's going to be utter chaos, Pine Tree, and I'd recommend that you and Shooting Star make use of that and slip out unnoticed." 

Dipper tried to ignore the pounding of his heart, the anxiety rising in his chest. _Get it together, Dipper._ “What do you mean, 'chaos?'"

Bill sighed and shifting back so he was leaning on Dipper's desk. One of his hands idly found a pen and flicked it. "When that barrier goes down, it's free game for any creature that's been trapped here since that damn Author put it up thirty-some years ago. The town is going to be overrun by all of the things trying to escape. It's not going to be pretty, Pine Tree."

Dipper's heart seemed to skip a beat. The boy's mind was racing with the new information that the Author was the one to trap the creatures of Gravity Falls here and with the new threat of what this meant. His fingers tightened on the handle of his mug. 

So the Author of the Journals had imprisoned Bill here. It had to be for a reason. 

More importantly, that barrier was the only thing protecting the outside world from things that they couldn’t even begin to imagine. Through the months of cryptic conversations about what the ‘barrier’ was, he hadn’t even started to consider that Bill breaking it down would also allow other things to get out.

_He’s really going to kill you for this._ "But I- Bill, I can't let that happen." The demon's eyes narrowed a bit. "The things that live in these woods... if they get out into the world, people will _die_."

Bill just shrugged, golden eyes flashing blue for a moment. "It's a hazard of the job, kid."

Dipper stared. That was it? That was all he had to say about it? It was Bill who had been working to take down the barrier, and it had been Dipper who was supplying him with the energy to do so. 

That meant that if the creatures of Gravity Falls got out of the town and killed people, it would be Dipper's fault.

He took a deep breath. _You’re an idiot._ "I'm going to stay and fight, then. Prevent things from getting out."

Bill was shaking his head before Dipper was even finished with his sentence. "No. Don't be a martyr, Pine Tree." 

"I've fought monsters before-"

"This is gonna be your last chance to get out of Gravity Falls _alive_ , kid," Bill snarled, cutting him off, and the teen jumped at the sudden volume change. "At the same time that the barrier goes down, a timer will reach the end of its countdown. When that timer reaches zero, this town is going to be ripped apart."

Dipper's heart stopped. 

"No," he whispered. Bill nodded, his face still emotionless. A timer? What the hell did that entail? A bomb? Some nuclear war device? Something else entirely? "Then… that was the apocalypse you were talking about," he realized, and the demon nodded once more. "But- why? _How_?" Why had Bill planned to break the barrier down at the same time? Dipper had a million questions swirling around in his mind at once. 

Bill stepped away from his desk then, only to turn around and pull out one of the drawers. Dipper frowned and furrowed his brow as Bill found a stack of sticky notes and pulled one out to begin writing on with the pen he had previously been messing with. He scribbled something down quickly, then turned to hand it to Dipper. 

_A-1-B-C-3._

He looked up after reading it, fingers tightening a little around the note. "What is this?"

"If you need it, you'll know." 

_Back to cryptic answers,_ Dipper thought, but he nodded and folded the paper to stick into the pocket of his jeans. 

"Why are you telling me all of this? I thought you wanted to be the one to _bring_ the apocalypse, but it looks to me like you're just using it to run away."

The words were dangerous, and Dipper knew it. Bill's eyes flashed red so quickly that Dipper wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't been watching for it, but for once, the demon didn't seem to let the words anger him.

Was this really the same man that Dipper had been sleeping with a few days before?

"Trust me, kid, I'll have more chances to destroy the world. I'm just taking the smart route and getting out while I can. I'm not going to risk getting stuck here for another few decades."

Though it pained him to do so, Dipper nodded. There was no use arguing, and Bill's tone made that clear: he couldn't be talked into staying. 

"As for why I'm telling you this..." Bill leaned against the desk again, looking conflicted. It was the first sign of real emotion that Dipper had seen on his face since he arrived. "I don't want to see you on Vepnihr's side, kid, and that's what's going to happen if you stick around."

Dipper's coffee had long gone cold, and when he took a drink just to give himself longer to think of a response, he cringed at the lukewarm liquid sliding down his throat.

"What about us?" he asked, his voice small and a tad bit childish, and he quickly corrected himself with, "Our deal, I mean."

"Null and void." Bill snapped his fingers and Dipper nearly dropped his coffee as a cold burning sensation overtook his right wrist. He could practically feel Bill's mark on him burning away, symbol by symbol. 

It was really over, then. 

Dipper was sure that he looked like a kicked puppy, but he felt too nauseous to pull a brave face. Bill seemed to notice this, for when he spoke again, his words were much softer- a hint of the Bill that Dipper was used to creeping in. 

"Look, kid," he started, and Dipper flinched. "I... It's been fun, alright? But I got what I needed from you, and I held up my end of the deal. You should be happy. No more drowsiness." 

No. This wasn’t the Bill that Dipper knew. This wasn’t the Bill that had marked him up, taken him possessively, and left promises of not ever allowing any other creature to touch him. That Bill wouldn’t have given Dipper the choice about whether or not to leave Gravity Falls. 

He couldn't help but think about what Bill had said at the party in his possessive rage. _I'd kill you myself before I let another demon take you from me._ What had happened to that? 

"I can't believe you're giving up." The words spilled from his lips before he could stop them, and he was all-too-aware of how bratty they sounded- like a spoiled child who wasn't getting his way. 

Bill visibly froze. "Giving up doesn't mean that I lose, Pine Tree," he replied. The words would have been much more convincing had he not sounded so hesitant. 

"Yeah, but you don't win, either." God, what had happened to Dipper's filter? Did he seriously have that much of a death wish? 

"Nice try, Pine Tree. But it's not going to work." The words lacked the sour undertone that they should have held. Instead, they were full of pity. Bill pushed off from the desk and took a few steps towards him. Dipper feared that he would try to touch him again and just make this so much worse, so he wrapped his free arm around himself and backed up until he hit the wall. Bill stilled.

Dipper kept his eyes on the demon's hands, turning over each other in an almost nervous fashion. He couldn't bring himself to meet Bill's eyes, even as the blonde quietly murmured, "I'm sorry it has to be this way, Dipper." 

The use of his name only made it worse, but he nodded and ignored the stinging behind his eyes. He couldn't help but think of how this felt so much like a break-up.

"When?" he asked when he could finally speak without his voice quivering. He didn't have to specify what he meant.

"Tuesday. One PM." 

Dipper's breath caught. That was only two days away. 

Two days until the end of Gravity Falls. 

"Don't be stupid, Pine Tree," Bill muttered quietly. "Don't let your pride or your desire to be a hero be the thing to kill you." 

He met the demon's eyes then, and he was surprised to see them so unguarded, so full of- _hurt_? 

Was it possible that Bill was doing this for _Dipper's_ own good and not for himself?

That thought only broke his heart more. He couldn't keep letting himself think that Bill was human or had human emotions. 

He was a _demon_. Dipper shouldn't have gotten attached. 

Trying to wipe his emotions from his face, Dipper coldly muttered, "Goodbye, Bill." 

Several emotions flickered over the demon's expression- surprise, then anger, and then a sad resignation. He smiled, but it didn't meet his eyes and it wasn't teasing or sadistic and it didn't fit on his face. "See ya, Pine Tree." 

Dipper cast his eyes downwards once more, shaking his coffee mug and watching the liquid slosh around. When Bill didn't instantly vanish, he shifted uncomfortably but didn't allow himself to look back up. _Just leave already, dammit!_

"Pine Tree..." There was something in Bill's tone that made Dipper perk up and want to go to him instantly, but he kept his eyes glued on his mug. The words hung in the air for a long time before Bill seemed to change his mind about what he was originally going to say and just finished with, "Watch out for your uncle. He's not who he says he is." 

The words weren't what Dipper expected and they surprised him enough to make him look up, but by the time he did, Bill was gone. The silence that now hung over the room was deafening. 

Dipper maintained his calm long enough to set his coffee down on his desk before he was breaking down. His hands went up to tug at his hair until he saw black behind his eyes and he ground his teeth down to keep himself from screaming out in frustration, anger, _desperation_. 

One of his shaking hands found its way to reach under his shirt and pull out the silver pendent still hanging around his neck. He pulled at the chain with as much strength as he could muster, and the metal dug threateningly into his skin before finally giving way and snapping. He allowed it to fall to the floor, and it landed too softly for something that felt so big to him.

He felt slightly less choked after it was off, but the relief was short-lived as he quickly remembered the mark on his side. He nearly strangled himself as his trembling hands fought to pull his t-shirt over his head. 

As he craned his neck to look at the tattoo-like mark that was undeniably Bill's summoning wheel, he was hit with a whole new wave of nausea. His fingernails, short and uneven from his bad habit of biting them, clawed desperately at his skin as if he could somehow erase the mark. Erase the evidence of the time that Bill had wanted him for himself. 

It was futile, and the slight stinging that came from the raised red scratches he managed to dig in just made him feel worse. He choked on a sob and let his legs crumple on the floor beneath them. 

He couldn't breathe. It was too hot and the room was suffocating and Bill was gone and he couldn't _breathe_.

He muffled his cries into his discarded shirt as his breaths came in desperate gasps. He hadn't had a panic attack in months, but the thought of Bill leaving and the idea of the looming apocalypse wouldn't leave his mind and it felt like an hour before he was able to calm down. 

When he could finally breath normally again, hugging his knees to his chest, he tried to tell himself that this was for the best. His deal with Bill was broken. Bill wouldn't be leeching energy out of him anymore. This was what he had wanted. 

... This _was_ what he wanted, wasn't it?


	19. Chapter Nineteen

“Dipper, it’s time to get up.”

“Five more minutes,” he muttered sarcastically, face still pressed into a pillow. He let his eyes slip closed again, only for Mabel to rip the pillow out from under his head and smack him over the back with it. He yelped but was content to keep his head pressed down onto the sheets.

“Dipstick, we literally have, like, thirty-one hours until the apocalypse. No more minutes. Time to get up.” 

Dipper’s eyes shot open at that and he rolled over. He blinked in confusion for a moment as he took in his surroundings, realizing that he was in Mabel’s room, the tell-tale colorful posters and stuffed animals making this clear. It took him a second to remember what had happened last night- with Bill, and then with coming to Mabel’s room and crying until he fell asleep on her lap- and when he did, he was hit with a pain in his stomach from the inevitable knot of nerves. 

When he told her about everything that Bill had said last night, she had first given him a long hug, and then had quickly switched gears to making a game plan. They didn’t even have to weigh the pros and cons before agreeing that they were going to stay and fight and protect the town that they had grown to call home. Dipper knew that it was risky, and he hated the idea of dragging his sister into something so dangerous, but now more than ever, he knew she could hold her all. 

The whole deal with the “countdown” was a different story. They had listed off everything that it could possibly be- most of the conclusions being some sort of war device, though there were no military bases anywhere around Gravity Falls- and in the end, upon realizing that it could very well be impossible to find it in time, decided that they may have to evacuate the town. 

It was not going to be a fun thirty-one hours.

He reached over and found his glasses on her nightstand and slid them on so he could read the time on her bedside digital clock. Six AM on the dot. But Mabel looked fully awake. In fact, she was still wearing the same thing that she had had on last night, her hair still perfectly combed through and not looking at all sleep-mussed. 

That combined with the laptop and the mess of books scattered open on the floor around her were enough to show that she hadn’t slept yet. 

Dipper swung his legs over the side of the bed, feet hanging just an inch off the ground. “What’d you find out?” he asked after a yawn, bringing a hand up to (futilely) try to smooth down his hair. 

His heart was still aching, but he tried to ignore it, knowing that they had much bigger issues than his demon sorta-boyfriend-type-thing leaving him. 

She didn’t glance up from her laptop, typing something quickly and pressing the enter key before leaning over and checking her phone. “Oh, not much,” she said in a tone just sarcastic enough for Dipper to know that she meant the opposite. “Just that Vepnihr is possessing a body.”

“ _What_?” Dipper hopped down from the bed and dropped onto the floor next to his twin to peer at her laptop.

“Take a look at this.” She tabbed over to another page and pulled up what was obviously a .PDF file of a scanned ‘missing person’ poster. 

The blurry picture at the top under the words _’MISSING PERSON’_ in red was clearly Vepnihr- or, the guy who Vepnihr was possessing. Cadyn Deal, according to the name listed in the description. He was smiling in his picture, a kind smile unlike the unsettling one that Dipper had seen on the same face recently. 

The flier didn’t give many details. It just said that he was twenty-two years old, six-foot-two, and last seen by his girlfriend at his apartment in the northern part of town. 

“Do you have a date for this?” Dipper asked quietly, leaning in closer to peer at the poster as if it would give him more information on the poor guy who had likely been ripped from his own body just as Bill had done to him so many years ago now. It was weird, looking at the picture and seeing his enemy, but knowing that it _wasn’t_ his enemy. It was just some college kid who’d probably been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

A bit of guilt itched at Dipper when he realized that maybe this guy wouldn’t have been possessed by Vepnihr if Dipper had never made the deal with the demon in the first place, but he pushed it out of his mind. 

“Early May of last year,” Mabel replied. “That’d explain why we never saw any of these fliers when we got into town in the middle of June. The hype had died down. Most people had probably given up the search by then and just assumed he’d gotten eaten by something in the woods.”

Dipper nodded, a solemn silence falling over the room. It was true; there were more disappearances in Gravity Falls than would be expected for such a small, sleepy town, but when the people didn’t turn up after a month or so, they were normally just brushed under the carpet as another casualty. 

He couldn’t help but wonder about the guy- Cadyn. What did his family think? Or his girlfriend, who had apparently been the last to see him? Were they all so quick to just believe the idea that he’d been killed by one of the creatures in the woods, or did they still hold hope that he would come home? And how had Vepnihr walked around in public, confronting Dipper at his college and at the Shack, without being seen by _somebody_? Someone had to have recognized him, right? 

“How did you even get access to this? This is filed with the police records, right?” he asked as he continued to examine the page as if it might yield some more answers. He recognized the URL at the top. He’d done his fair share of breaching city records for information on cases. 

Mabel grinned sheepishly at him. “It helps to know somebody in power,” she offered. Dipper blinked. Right. Pacifica. Her maybe-girlfriend. 

Speaking of girlfriends… “Do you have the name of-”

“Yeah, her name’s Holly,” Mabel interrupted him. Twin telepathy. “It wasn’t hard to find her through social media. I just searched the guy’s name and found the memorial page for him on Facebook. I guess she runs it.”

If he had a memorial page, then he must have been pretty popular. That just added to the weirdness that nobody had seen him- Vepnihr- walking around. Dipper sighed, leaning back against Mabel’s bed. “Do you think it’s worth talking to her? Maybe she can tell us if he was acting any differently before he disappeared?” 

Mabel lifted a small piece of paper and waved it in his face. When he realized that it was a phone number, he grinned.

\-----

Holly lived in a nice area of town- nice enough to make Dipper feel a bit self-conscious in his tattered jeans and flannel as he pulled his truck up in front of her gated community. He gave the guard Mabel’s name at the front and they were waved through, so Holly must have alerted them that she was expecting guests. 

She lived alone in a house large enough to house ten people comfortably- or, at least it looked that way from the outside. Dipper was sure it was probably even bigger on the inside. Mabel rang the doorbell and a short, pretty blonde girl was opening it within seconds. 

The girl smiled nervously at Mabel before her eyes went to Dipper behind her and they narrowed in uncertainty. Luckily, his twin was on top of things, and she was quickly beaming at the blonde and sticking out a hand to shake with a cheery, “Mabel Pines. And that’s my brother, Dipper. We don’t bite.” 

“Holly Asbury,” the girl replied, seeming to relax a bit as she shook Mabel’s and then Dipper’s hands. She opened the door a bit wider and gestured for them to come in. The entryway was just as nice as Dipper had expected, and he couldn’t help but be reminded of his mindscape manor. 

Mabel had told her straight-up over the phone that they were paranormal researchers that were looking into her boyfriend’s disappearance. Dipper had been shocked at Mabel’s word choice- surely she could have come up with a fake reason for them to meet up before they actually interrogated her- and had been even more shocked when Holly eagerly agreed. 

The drive out here had given him enough time to consider that maybe Holly was suspicious enough about Cadyn’s disappearance and the lore of the town to believe that some “paranormal researchers” could give her more answers than the police. 

The girl led them into a nice parlor and offered them drinks, which they politely declined. Once they were all seated- Dipper and Mabel on a red couch with gold spiral designs and Holly sitting across the coffee table in a matching chair- the seriousness resumed. Her cheerily-fake smile dropped from her face and Dipper could suddenly see the obvious marks of stress on her face that hadn’t been evident before- dark circles under her eyes, stress lines on her head that shouldn’t have been clear on somebody so young. 

He couldn’t imagine having the person he loved just torn away from him with no explanation and have everybody just accept their disappearance as something that wasn’t a big deal. 

Well, he kind of could, but it was easier _not_ to imagine it. 

“So,” Holly shifted a bit uncomfortably, her hands smoothing down an already perfectly-pressed black skirt. She was dressed far too nicely for an eight-in-the-morning interrogation, but Dipper guessed that when you lived in a neighborhood like this one, you had to look the part. “Can I ask- I mean, what’s brought this on so suddenly? Cadyn went missing eight months ago. The search has been off for six.” 

Dipper and Mabel exchanged a glance. Instead of answering her question, Dipper asked one of his own: “Would you mind telling us about the weeks leading up to Cadyn’s disappearance? Did he act… strange, at all?” 

The blonde blinked at them, worry flashing across her face. “You’re not… with the police or anything, are you?”

Dipper sat up a bit more, feeling Mabel tense next to him. “No, we’re not. We’re college students who hunt mysteries on the side. Did you talk to the police at all?”

Holly laughed bitterly, the sudden sound making Mabel jump slightly. Dipper picked at something under his fingernails with the nails of his other hand, not taking his attention off of the girl in front of them. 

“Yeah, I talked to the cops,” she replied, not sounding happy about it at all. “They thought I killed him.”

Mabel’s breath caught and Dipper tensed. “I’m… assuming you didn’t,” Mabel offered. 

Holly smiled sadly. “No, I didn’t. But the circumstances didn’t exactly paint me in the best light.”

Dipper folded his hands, resting his elbows on his knees, and leaned forward on them. “What circumstances, exactly?” he pressed.

She took a deep breath. There was nothing but sheer honesty in her eyes when she started, “A few weeks before Cadyn… disappeared, we weren’t… in the best of luck. We were both finishing up college and both lost our part-time jobs around the same time.”

“You were living together, then?” Mabel interjected, eyeing her up.

“Yeah.” She nodded. “We had an apartment on first street. But anyways, we lost our jobs. His family had cut him off financially and mine didn’t have anything to offer me. We were going to lose our apartment. Plus, we both owed a few grand in college loans.” 

Looking around the large, fancy house, Dipper had a sinking feeling about where this story was going.

“But one day, I got home from school and he just… He had money, suddenly. And he wouldn’t tell me where it was from.”

That confirmed Dipper’s suspicions, but he pressed on with the discussion. 

“Where do you think he got it?” the boy asked, leaning forward more.

Her eyes flicked between he and Mabel once before settling back on him. Her nervousness was evident, but Dipper didn’t think she was lying. He had gotten good enough at being able to read people. “I don’t know. At the time I thought maybe he was selling drugs, or something, but he just… wasn’t that type. I don’t know. Maybe it’s just me being hopeful, but he liked to stay clear of things like that. Didn’t even drink.” She took a shaky breath. “And it quickly became… a lot more money. I mean... a _lot_.” She gestured around the house. Dipper glanced at his sister; it was obvious that she had also realized where this story was going. 

“What did he say when you asked about the money?” Dipper questioned. At this point, he was looking more for any sign of early demonic possession. 

Holly squeezed her eyes tight shut for a few long seconds, and when she opened them again, they were shining slightly. Dipper’s heart went out to her, and he applauded her for still being able to speak clearly. “He said that he couldn’t tell me where it was from, but that he hadn’t done anything illegal. And he said- he just said, ‘Things are going to get a lot better for you soon, baby.’ And then he wouldn’t talk any more about it.” She rubbed her face. When she looked up, a single tear had streaked down her cheek. She smiled sadly. “I think he knew that something was going to happen to him. He said _’you.’_ That things would get better for _me_ , not for _us_. Then, after he disappeared, I found out that he had bought this house for us. It was already completely paid for, and everything, and he left a whole lot more money in a bank account under my name, too.” Holly stared at her hands, her voice trembling. “I would have much rather just had him and been poor forever. We were going to get married after we finished school.” 

Dipper could see Mabel’s hand twitch, as if she desperately wanted to reach across the table and squeeze the girl’s hand in reassurance. Mabel’s voice was unwavering but soft when she asked, “Did he do or say anything weird the last time you saw him?”

Holly seemed to still, her gaze burning into Mabel’s as if looking for a sign that the girl could be trusted. Mabel just smiled genuinely back at her, and her ever-present charm must have worked, for Holly’s voice lowered and she solemnly stated, “The last time I saw him, I had just gotten home from class. He was at the apartment, and he… wasn’t the same. It… Okay, don’t think I’m crazy-”

“Oh, we won’t,” Mabel assured.

“-but it just… wasn’t him. It wasn’t Cadyn. I mean, it looked like him, and it was his voice, but Cadyn just never… talked like that. He wasn’t so suave, and he never smiled like that. And he also suddenly just had these… tattoos.”

“Tattoos?” Mabel practically squeaked. Dipper was pretty sure his heart stopped. His mind flashed back to the few encounters he’d had with Vepnihr; he _had_ seen a peek of something under his shirt sleeve, hadn’t he?

“Yeah, they were like… weird symbols. It didn’t look like a language I’d ever seen. And I mean, he had to have just gotten them done that day, since they’d obviously not been there the day before, but they weren’t bandaged up, and his skin wasn’t even red, or anything.”

“Did you ask him about them?” Dipper asked, already anticipating her answer.

“Yeah. He wouldn’t give me a straight answer. He was just sort of speaking in riddle.”

Yeah, that sounded like Vepnihr.

“Do you think you could remember any of the symbols that he had tattooed?” Mabel asked. “Even just one.”

Holly peered at her, looking a bit confused. “I mean, uh… I think. I guess? I remember a few.”

She got up to go grab paper and a pen, and once she was out of earshot, Dipper dropped his head into his hands. Mabel bumped his shoulder, sighing. 

“God, that would suck so bad,” Mabel whispered. “Having your boyfriend get taken by a demon and you don’t even know.” 

“At least she got this house out of the deal,” Dipper joked, but his heart wasn’t in it. 

Cadyn sounded like he had been a stand-up guy. Sure, selling your soul for money was idiotic at the surface, but it seemed like he had gone into it for Holly and known the risks. 

“Yeah, but it’s a house built on blood,” Mabel replied softly, straightening up when Holly returned to the room with a notepad.

The air was heavy as the blonde girl leaned over the coffee table to sketch quietly. Dipper tapped his foot nervously as Mabel combed her fingers through her hair over and over again, and he didn’t feel like he could breathe normally again until Holly straightened up and slid the paper across the table. 

Dipper and his twin practically pushed each other to both see it as the same time, and he could hear Mabel’s breath catch at the same moment his did. 

Holly had drawn- somewhat sloppily- two sigils that were clearly binding runes. They weren’t exactly like anything Dipper had seen, as she probably couldn’t remember them completely, but they were close enough that they were recognizable. 

Demonic possession with just a deal was something that could possibly be broken. Binding tattoos could not. 

Holly was quickly asking them, “What? What do they mean?” the second she realized that they recognized the symbols, but they didn’t have much to offer her. It would take far too long to explain to her that her boyfriend had given his body up to a demon and then calm her down in the inevitable aftermath of finding something like that out. Far too much time that they simply didn’t have.

Mabel did her best to thank Holly for her time and information while escorting herself and Dipper out of the house (Dipper murmured a quiet apology, but his mind was racing too fast to offer anything more). The blonde followed close behind them, tears in her eyes as she frantically and desperately asked what they knew. Dipper’s heart ached for her, but there wasn’t really anything else he could say. 

They were out of the gated community and on the road again before Mabel spoke. “Do you think Cadyn’s soul is still drifting through the mindscape and following Vepnihr around?”

Dipper shook his head, not taking his eyes off of the road in front of him. “Not with the binding tattoos. He relinquished his body completely.”

“So, he’s…” Mabel let the sentence hang in the air, both knowing the unspoken truth: Cadyn Deal was dead and gone. 

Well, his body was still alive, but without the soul, it wasn’t worth anything anymore.

Furthermore, Dipper wasn’t sure how to defeat Vepnihr anymore. He hadn’t known before, either, but after finding out that he was possessing a body rather than just having created one like Bill, there had been a small hope that he’d be able to expel Vepnihr from the vessel and send him back to the mindscape. But with the runes binding him to that body, there wasn’t a way to defeat him without just killing the body all together. And Bill had confirmed for him months ago that that was near impossible with the speed that demons could heal at. 

He looked at the clock on the dashboard. Eight thirty in the morning. Twenty eight and a half hours. 

\-----

“I’m not talking about it anymore, kid.”

“But Grunkle Stan, you _have_ to.” 

It’d been a rough night, and what was possibly their last full day in Gravity Falls- or last full day _alive_ \- had passed far too quickly. Dipper thought that he’d eventually see the obvious solution, figure out how to stop Vepnihr and stop the creatures in the woods from escaping and stop the inevitable apocalypse that was going to come from whatever this “countdown” was. But soon enough, it was six AM and he was downing a cup of coffee with bloodshot eyes and arguing with Grunkle Stan about why the old man absolutely _had_ to get out of the town for the day. 

He and Mabel hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep, but Mabel had grown quiet enough around four in the morning that Dipper was starting to think that she was giving up. The light in her eyes died and she hugged him closer, as if she was fully prepared to go into this until they saved the town or died trying. 

Dipper didn’t realize it for a while, but he was, too. 

He could practically hear Bill’s voice in his mind. _Stupid meatsack._

“I _said_ I was done talking about it, Dipper.” Grunkle Stan set the newspaper down with more force than necessary, his fists hitting the table and causing Dipper’s coffee to jump in its mug. His glare burned into Dipper, but the teen didn’t back down.

“Why are you so adamant about staying?” Dipper demanded, shoulders tensing. Bill’s words played in his head. _Don’t trust your uncle. He’s not who he says he is._

Grunkle Stan seemed to grow a bit angrier at Dipper’s words as he bit back, “Why are _you_ trying to get me to leave so bad?” He deflated after a moment, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose as he sighed, “Today is a big day for me, kid.”

Dipper’s eyes narrowed at that, the words sending off warning bells in his head. Bill’s warning continued to repeat over and over again in his head. He stared his uncle down, wishing that Stan would look up so Dipper could see if there was any hint of honesty in his eyes. He knew that it would probably be futile anyway, though. Stan had been lying for years. He couldn’t be trusted, and for once, Dipper couldn’t bring himself to mind that he was believing Bill’s words over the words of his family. 

“What do you mean?” he asked, brow furrowing as he was unable to keep the accusation out of his voice. There was a sinking feeling of nerves in his stomach and a voice in his head screaming, _What if Stan has something to do with this whole countdown thing?_

He tried to ignore it. His uncle wasn’t a great guy, but he wouldn’t bring on the apocalypse.

Stan looked back up at him. There was a tired but guarded look on his face, and his voice was uncharacteristically tender as he started, “Kid, there’s something I’ve got to tell you.”

Dipper tensed in anticipation, but whatever Grunkle Stan was going to say never came for they quickly heard the soft sound of what Mabel probably thought were quiet footsteps. Dipper smiled, expecting that she would probably stop right outside of the kitchen to eavesdrop, but a moment later, they heard the front door open and then swing shut.

They sat in silence for what had to be a full minute, expecting Mabel to come right back in. Maybe she was checking for the paper, or something, even though she knew that Grunkle Stan always got it first thing in the morning. When the minute passed, Dipper and his great uncle exchanged a quick, confused glance, both temporarily forgetting the conversation. Dipper stood up and hurried over to the door. When he pulled it open, his truck was gone. 

_Holy shit._

He rushed back into the kitchen to snag his phone off the table and was dialing his sister’s number before he could even catch his breath. Stan had stood up as well, looking a bit concerned with Dipper’s reaction. 

When Mabel’s phone only rang a few short times before going to voicemail, Dipper swore and pressed the button to call again. Stan looked worried, for his voice was a bit shaky as he tried to reassure him, “Jeez, Dipper, calm down. She probably just went to run an errand.”

_I’m relatively certain that Mabel didn’t go to the grocery store when there’s a possible apocalypse coming in seven hours,_ Dipper thought, but he didn’t speak as he hurried out of the room and out the front door.

There was no way that Mabel would try to take on Vepnihr by herself, right? With all of that talk about not wanting Dipper to sacrifice himself for her, there was no way she’d ever try to do the opposite, right? _Right_?

When Mabel didn’t answer on the third attempted call, Dipper called Pacifica. 

He had no idea what time it was wherever in Europe Pacifica was, but he was overly relieved when she answered on the second ring. “What’s wrong?” she demanded immediately instead of saying hello. 

“Have you talked to Mabel today?” he asked quickly, pacing back and forth on the porch. His heart was beating loudly in his ears. _There’s no way she’d do something like that_ , he tried to reassure himself, but he wasn’t sure. 

“Not since this morning. Well, last night for you. Why?” There was a cutting edge in Pacifica’s voice that didn’t do well to mask the obvious worry. “What happened? Where is she?”

“That’s what I was hoping you’d be able to tell me,” he sighed. He gripped onto one of the porch rails hard enough that the splintered wood began to dig into his skin. He worked on keeping his breathing in check and not thinking about the worst scenario. “She just disappeared with my car and she won’t answer her phone and… and I think she’s going to go do something stupid, and I. I don’t know. I’m worried.”

There was the sound of Pacifica moving, and she took a deep breath before she calmly asked, “Where do you think she went?” 

Dipper shut his eyes. His hand gripped his phone tighter. “Somewhere bad.” He hoped that Pacifica wouldn’t ask for clarification. He didn’t trust his voice not to shake if he had to tell her that he thought his sister might be sacrificing herself to a demon. It would make her hesitant but overly-loving actions in the past few hours make more sense, after all. 

“Well, does your car have a GPS tracking chip in it, or something?”

Dipper frowned. He didn’t even know that cars were high-tech enough to have those. “Pacifica, I drive an old, beaten-down truck.” 

“Right, right. Then, uh. Oh, but Mabel has a smartphone! Do you think she has her phone on her?” 

“Yeah, but I already told you, she’s not-”

“I get that she’s not answering, Dipshit. But phones can be tracked.” There was the faint sound of the phone being set down- Pacifica must have put the call on speakerphone- before the loud sound of typing. 

“Are you able to find her location like that?” he asked, trying not to let himself get too relieved. Still, there was an ounce of hope budding in his chest. 

“Yeah. It just requires her phone number and a password.” 

“And you know her password-?”

“Mabel’s not too hard to figure out,” Pacifica scoffed, voice muffled by the distance between her and the phone. The vaguely satisfied undertone of her words left Dipper wondering if Mabel’s password was _‘mabelxpacifica4ever,’_ or something. There was more typing and then a triumphant noise as she stated, “Got it.” 

“You found her that easily?” Dipper was still a bit behind. He wasn’t as tech-savvy as he’d like to admit beyond internet research and typing in Microsoft Word. 

“Yeah. I’ll text you her location. You have a way of getting there, right?” 

Dipper's eyes flicked warily over to Grunkle Stan's old, rickety car. "Yeah." 

\-----

When the location Pacifica texted him brought him to a dilapidated old church that had been long abandoned, Dipper wasn't even surprised.

He put the car in park right next to his empty truck, parked haphazardly across several parking spots in front of the church, and ran up the steps. Moss grew out of the cracks. He stopped long enough to read the Latin carved into the door. _Per aspera ad inferi._

Through hardship to Hell. 

He threw the door open, walking into the too-bright church that definitely should not have been so illuminated when it had been abandoned for years. The light wasn’t natural, nor did it come from the now-broken lights hanging overhead. It was obviously caused by magic, and it did its part in clearly showing the two figures at the other end of the vast room. 

“Stop!” Dipper screamed as he took off running down the aisle, purple flames in Vepnihr’s hand dying down as both he and Mabel turned to face Dipper in shock.

They had been about to make a deal.

“Dipper,” Vepnihr purred, turning to smile at him as Mabel’s eyes widened in horror. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail rather than hanging loose, and she wore tight jeans and a hoodie rather than her normal sweater-skirt combination. She hadn’t been preparing for a joyous event. 

She hadn’t been preparing to come back at all.

“What a surprise,” Vepnihr continued as Dipper made it to them, forcing himself to breathe normally and telling himself that it would be fine. It’d be okay. Mabel didn’t make a deal. But god, had she been close to it. 

“Stay the fuck away from my sister,” Dipper snarled, easing into a fighting stance. The only reason he didn’t lung out to pull his twin away from the monster or send up a wave of magic was because he worried the sudden movement would cause Vepnihr to act rashly. 

The demon just laughed in delight, smiling widely at him and folding his arms over his chest. Dipper thought back to Cadyn Deal and his poor girlfriend. What would Holly think if she saw the man who used to be her boyfriend like this, eyes glowing violet and absolute power radiating off of him?

“You just missed it, Dip,” Vepnihr said in mock-pity with a sad smile. The nickname made him want to wretch. “Mabel had such a good speech about how far she’d go to protect you.”

Dipper’s eyes flicked over to her. She looked frozen in place, an apology clear in her eyes. 

“Her soul in exchange for yours,” Vepnihr continued, the words sounding as if he was just repeating what Mabel had said to him. The black-haired demon looked back at the girl before turning his wicked grin back on Dipper. “My, this really is a throwback, isn’t it?” 

Dipper narrowed his eyes. His hands clenched tightly into fists, the nails digging into his skin the only thing keeping him grounded. “You’re not getting either of us,” he ground out, glaring with as much ferocity as he could muster in his panicked state. 

The happiness faded from Vepnihr’s face all at once. “Really,” he stated more than questioned. He waved a hand and the door to the church slammed loudly, the noise startling enough to make both Dipper and Mabel jump. “Are you sure about that, Dipper?” 

He let out a shaky breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Your intimidation methods aren't going to work," he tried to scoff. Maybe arrogance would mask his fear.

Vepnihr blinked at him, and then laughed. "Oh, that wasn't my intimidation method." 

He snapped his fingers and the magic lighting went out, sending the room into utter darkness that the little light seeping in through the stained-glass window couldn't break. The room seemed to drop thirty degrees in just a few seconds, the cold wave sending Dipper shivering combined with the fact that he could see neither his sister nor the demon. 

There was dead silence for a few long, tense moments before the screaming started. 

Dipper didn't know what the creatures were, only that they looked like spirits and screeched like banshees. He was reminded vaguely of the sluagh as the creatures filled the church, coming from nowhere just to fly around and duck right in front of Dipper's face. He jumped back in surprise, his heart pounding. He screamed for Mabel over the noise, but she was nowhere to be found within the darkness of the room and the ghostly white creatures drifting about. 

"Intimidated yet, kid?" Vepnihr was suddenly right behind him, resting his chin on Dipper's shoulder and breathing hotly against his ear. 

The teen didn't hesitate to pivot and send his fist flying, but Vepnihr had anticipated it. In fact, that was probably the reaction he had hoped to get, for he just laughed as he dodged it and disappeared back into the swarm. 

Dipper forced his way blindly towards where he'd last seen his sister. Every time one of the creatures would duck through him, he'd be hit with a wave of fear and paranoia and anxiety out of nowhere, obviously caused by the entities. He'd never heard of any creature like this before. 

Mabel's scream rang out over the cries of the monsters. A purple glow encased her, giving away her position as she was pressed down onto her knees by an invisible force. Dipper ran towards his sister, ignoring the horrible feelings sent through him by the monsters, just as Vepnihr stepped out of the shadows behind her.

Even in the dim lighting, Dipper could see the glinting of the knife that the demon tossed back and forth between his hands like a baseball. 

Mabel had stopped screaming, but Dipper could tell that she was making inaudible whimpers of pain beneath the noise of the creatures. Her eyes were shut, her face contorted in discomfort as she tried to lift herself, but the purple force of magic held her in place. 

"I'm tired of this cat-and-mouse game, Dipper," Vepnihr called out over the noise, sighing dramatically. "But you know how you attract a mouse?" Dipper heart practically stopped as the question hung in the air. He felt magic tingling in his fingertips and was about to send it flying towards the demon when Vepnihr finally grasped the knife in one hand and used his magic to will Mabel to lift one of her arms. When he grabbed her fingers with his free hand, Dipper thought he would faint. 

"You lay out cheese."

Dipper felt frozen in place as Vepnihr paused for anticipation, smirking smugly at him. "Where should we start, Dipper? Pinky or thumb? I'm thinking one finger at a time until you learn to obey." Dipper's eyes locked on his sister's, whose were wide in terror. When Dipper didn't answer his question, Vepnihr mused, "Let's start with thumb." He began to bring the blade down.

"Stop!" Dipper choked out, practically stumbling forward. The moment he did, Vepnihr stilled, dropping Mabel's hand, and the screaming stopped. The creatures disappeared one by one and the light returned to the room. 

"I'll go with you," he resigned quietly, lungs feeling about ready to jump out of his chest. 

Mabel was shaking her head despite still being locked in place, tears streaming down her face. "Dipper, no. No, no, you can't, you _can't_." Her voice was strained from having just been screaming in fear, and she seemed to be using every ounce of willpower to beg with him. Dipper looked away, not allowing her to see how scared he was.

_Don’t be a martyr._

_I don’t want you to sacrifice yourself for me._

The knife vanished out of Vepnihr's hands as he strolled around Mabel to stand in front of Dipper, both ignoring the girl's desperate cries. "Say that again, Dipper?" the demon suggested with a smirk. 

He swallowed his pride and bit back the snide comment that was fighting to be said. "I want you to get Mabel out of Gravity Falls. Somewhere safe. And I'll come with you. No more fighting." He looked at his sister, whose pleading had died off but whose face was wet with tears. "I'm sorry, Mabel. I love you." 

"I love you too," she choked out on a sob. He tore his eyes away. Vepnihr was grinning in absolute delight. 

He stuck his hand out to Dipper as it erupted into violet flames. Dipper ignored the sickness turning in his stomach and shook on the deal, flames spreading up his arms and sending the electricity of the magic flowing through him. The simple handshake felt like a death sentence.

In a way, it probably was. Bill would have been furious at his horrible negotiating. 

Vepnihr dropped his hand only to turn and grin at Mabel, who was full-on sobbing, her eyes burning into her brother. "It's been fun, Mabel," Vepnihr laughed. "Sorry I have to cut our party short." He waved his hand and Mabel was gone.

It probably said a lot about Dipper's mental state that his first thought was to wonder how Mabel's body was going to react to teleporting. He tried to trust that Vepnihr would send her somewhere safe, where she'd be out of the crossfire for whatever went down today. He couldn't bear to think of the alternative. 

Once they were alone, Vepnihr turned the predatory smile on him. He took Dipper's hand, and the teen worked to desensitize himself to the touch. He worked to desensitize himself to all of this. To go numb.

"You know what I'd like to hear, Dipper?" the demon teased as he slid up close to him. His body was cold, not at all like the searing heat of Bill's. "I'd like some confirmation that you know what you've just agreed to."

Dipper choked back the tears. He choked back the bile rising in his throat. _Numb._ "I'm… I’m yours." 

Vepnihr grinned wickedly at him. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting to hear you say that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, there are still three chapters left, so put the pitchforks and torches down for now.


	20. Chapter Twenty

Entering the mindscape felt different when being forcibly dragged out of his dimension and into it. 

Dipper was only vaguely concerned about the state of his unconscious body as he took in the monochromatic surroundings. His physical form was probably better off in the apocalyptic crossfire of Gravity Falls than his- his whatever this what, his mind, his soul- was in the mindscape with Vepnihr. The demon wouldn’t have left his body there if it was really in any danger- Vepnihr’s own vessel was unconscious there as well, after all. 

He could feel the magic drain from his body the moment he phased into the realm, eliminating his only chance of escape. 

The dark-haired demon stood by, arms crossed and a smug smirk on his face as he allowed Dipper to examine his settings. The walls loomed over them, high ceilings defined by gray stone and brightly-colored glass sconces. They were in a den-like room, the seemingly real fire in the fireplace giving off actual heat and shadows that served to cast colors onto the otherwise grayscale surroundings. 

It appeared that he and Mabel weren’t the only ones going for the ‘wow’ factor when designing their mindscapes. But in a world where you could control everything, why _wouldn’t_ you go for the bigger-is-better design?

Dipper wanted to hide, retreat into the corner of the room and try to pretend that he wasn’t here, alone with a demon in the demon’s realm. But he wouldn’t give Vepnihr the satisfaction. He stood his ground and cast his eyes downwards as the demon stood just a foot away, not even trying to hide the fact that he was eyeing the boy up.

“Like what you see, Dipper?” Vepnihr joked. The words cut through the quiet of the room, broken otherwise only by the crackle of the fire and Dipper’s shallow breathing. “You’d better get used to it. You’re going to be staying here for a while.”

Dipper tried to take his mind off of the sick feeling in his stomach, threatening to make him throw up at any moment. He was already struggling to keep his breathing at a semi-regular pace and avoid a panic attack. 

It was difficult when he had no idea what had become of his sister and what would become of his town. 

He tore his gaze off of the ornately-designed marble floor and up to the demon, who was watching him with a steady, pleased gaze. “Why are we here?” he asked, voice slightly hoarse. He cleared his throat, and that only seemed to amuse Vepnihr more. “The apocalypse is coming in a few hours. You want to be there, right?”

Vepnihr laughed, shifting his weight back and never taking his eyes off of Dipper. The laugh was joyous, not mocking, and his voice had taken on a more friendly, out-of-place tone when he replied, “Of course I do. So do you, really. I’m sure you’ll love seeing your precious town in flames. But we’ve got time before then. I’d like to enjoy myself.”

Dipper definitely didn’t like the sound of that, the red flashing in Vepnihr’s eyes sign enough of something sadistic to come, and he liked it even less as he felt magic forcing him to the ground. When he struggled, his knees hit the marble hard enough to send a shock reverberating through his bones. He gritted his teeth. Vepnihr laughed, and when he snapped his fingers, Dipper’s flannel disappeared and exposed his chest. 

He bit back his instinct to swear as he realized where he was- shirtless and exposed and on his knees in front of a demon who was probably capable of bigger horrors than he could even imagine. But he was relieved when he looked up and found that the demon’s eyes weren’t full of lust or wanting, nothing like Bill’s. They were just filled with a sick, twisted pleasure, most likely enjoying the sight of Dipper humiliated and powerless. 

Dipper lowered his eyes as Vepnihr strode over. His eyes grazed over the demon’s black dress shoes, taking note of every stitch of the leather. He jumped when a hand landed in his hair and brushed it back, snagging long enough to force him to look up. The hand remained, pushing his bangs back and brushing a thumb over his birthmark. 

Dipper tried not to squirm. He fixed Vepnihr with the most emotionless stare he could muster. Maybe if he didn’t give the demon the satisfaction of provoking a reaction, he would go away. 

Dipper knew that wouldn’t work, of course. It was just the same thing as with the high school bullies, but on a larger scale. Vepnihr would keep pushing as hard as he needed to in order to see what he wanted. 

The demon’s hand dropped down so his fingers could curl lightly around Dipper’s chin, holding his head in place as he eyed him curiously. When Dipper didn’t cringe or flinch or bite out a snarky comment, Vepnihr frowned. His grip on Dipper’s jaw tightened just slightly- just enough to assert his dominance. Dipper recognized the power move from Bill having done it many a time.

“Come on, Dipper, what’s that look?” Vepnihr asked with a fake pout, as if he didn’t already know. “I never thought I’d say it, but I’m already missing your spark. Why aren’t you fighting back?”

Dipper swallowed, holding his gaze. The demon’s irises seemed to change colors, different shades of violet swirling around within them. “What’s the point?” he challenged. He was all-too-aware of how Vepnihr could snap his neck, and he had no idea how it would affect his body outside of the mindscape. Bill had proved to him that his powers reached beyond the mind, and if he could do that, who knew what Vepnihr could do. 

Vepnihr stared him down for a long moment before releasing him and stepping back. He began to roll up the cuffs of his white dress shirt. “The point,” he drawled, voice lowering, “is that I _want you to_. And we’re in _my_ world, Dipper, so it’d be in your best interest to amuse me.”

Dipper felt the weight of the magic lift off of him and he instantly felt like it was easier to breathe. He knew that Vepnihr expected him to stand up and for that, he almost wanted to remain down on the ground, but one look at the demon’s eyes told him that that act of defiance was not the best course of action right now. He stood up shakily, ignoring the extended hand offered to help.

Once on his feet, he took a few steps back from the demon and crossed his arms to better cover his chest. He was shivering despite the warmth radiating off the fire. 

“What do you want?” he asked, priding himself in his ability to keep his voice steady. 

Vepnihr looked amused, as though he saw through Dipper’s fake-confidence act. He probably did. “I want you to run, Dipper. Give me a challenge.”

Dipper was shaking his head instantly. “No. I’m done running away. I told you th-”

In a lightning fast move, a fist had shot out and struck him across the jaw. He just narrowly missed biting down and ripping his lip open as he stumbled back from the impact, hands flying up to shield his face. It took every bit of his restraint not to cry out in pain and shock or to hit the demon back. He resolved to glare at Vepnihr from behind his hands as the demon’s eyes flared red. 

“I told you to _run_ , Dipper. Don’t make me tell you again.” 

Dipper returned the stare for just a second before he dropped his hands and bolted past the demon. Judging by the lack of footsteps behind him as he made it to the door out of the den, he guessed that Vepnihr was giving him a head start. He’d need it. 

He slammed the door behind him, as if that would really give him more of a chance. He took off running down the hallway, dread sinking in as he stared towards the end of it. Out-of-place red walls defied the grayscale of the world, lights nowhere in sight but somehow still illuminating the hall. It looked long, never-ending, but after a ways, there was a darkness evident towards the “end” that had Dipper questioning if it was just poorly-lit down there or if that was where the mindscape broke off. Seeing no other options, he took off for it anyways. 

He felt like he was running forever by the time he realized that he still hadn’t heard Vepnihr behind him. Still, he wasn’t going to look back and double check. He ignored the aching in his jaw from the blow that intensified whenever his feet hit the ground and shook his body and just continued to run. 

Doors appearing on either side of the hallway and flying open out of nowhere nearly gave Dipper a heart attack, and was startling enough for him to slow to a stop.

His head whipped back and forth between the two entrances. Both just showed a void of black. Dipper wondered if there was even a right choice to be had. Vepnihr was going to catch up to him no matter where he went, of course. 

But what if there was some sort of punishment for choosing the wrong door? He was sure there wouldn’t be a reward no matter what- it wasn’t like Vepnihr was planning to let him go free at any point- but the demon could still enforce something horrible upon him just for his own amusement. 

With that thought in his mind, Dipper slammed both of the doors and continued going straight down the hall.

He felt the mindscape drop in temperature as he made his decision, and the red of the walls and the black of the floor seemed to blur together as he kept running. Maybe he was just being deprived of oxygen- how long had he been running now?- or maybe that wasn’t what Vepnihr had anticipated him doing. 

A minute later, Dipper realized, _yeah, the mindscape is definitely shifting now,_ as doors began to fly open all around him and as far down as he could see. This time, though, they weren’t just black and void.

They were playing Dipper’s memories.

He didn’t stop. He had no idea what would happen to him if he did. He just continued running despite the pounding of his heart and the burning sensation in his lungs, catching bits and pieces of sound from the memories. 

_”Someone’s looking desperate._

_”I’m not a damsel in distress, Dipper. I can fight my own battles.”_

_”You look a lot like Stan when he was younger.”_

_”Dipper, you know you’ll see her again. There’s no force in the world that would keep Mabel from coming to see you.”_

_”I guess that you’re old enough to make your own stupid decisions.”_

_”I’d kill you myself before I let another demon take you from me.”_

_”Tainted! Not jusssst one, but two.”_

_”I don’t want you to sacrifice yourself for me, dummy!”_

_”What are we hunting today, Pine Tree?”_

_”I own you, Pine Tree. I can mark you in any way I want.”_

_”I said sure thing, Pine Tree. I’ll sleep with you.”_

_”Giving up doesn’t mean that I lose, Pine Tree.”_

“ _Enough_!” Dipper yelled, stopping in his tracks. He threw his hands out and the doors all slammed shut on their own, the sudden silence sounding louder than the chaotic voices had been. He whirled around as the air began to return to his lungs. Vepnihr was standing just a feet feet away, looking interested. 

“Enough running. Enough of this,” Dipper reiterated. His heart stung. He wasn’t sure if it had been Vepnihr’s intention to make the memories of Bill feel so much more prominent than all of the other ones, but it had worked. The blonde demon’s voice was echoing in his ears even as the doors faded away to dust. 

“I’ll admit, you made it further than I expected you to,” Vepnihr mused, eyeing Dipper up and down. He was still panting, sweat forming at his brow, but now more than ever, he was ready to fight the demon if need be. 

“Sucks when you can’t predict everything, doesn’t it?” Dipper gasped. He lifted an arm to open up his lungs more but brushed it off as if he was pushing his hair back. 

Vepnihr laughed, his eyes flicking hungrily down Dipper’s body as the boy’s stomach muscles tightened. The teen brought his arms down instantly to cover himself, but Vepnihr was already striding forward and pushing his limbs out of the way. Dipper shivered at the touch, the skin-on-skin contact sending bad shocks through him. 

“What is _that_?” Vepnihr hissed, eyes locked onto Bill’s mark on his side. Oh. Right. Dipper was surprised that the demon hadn’t already noticed it. He supposed the dim lighting of the fireplace room had been in his favor, then, the gold “ink” not standing out until brighter light was shone on it. 

"Guess I'm always going to be tainted by Bill's mark, aren't I?" he ground out, the tips of the demon's fingers biting dangerously into his skin. He couldn't stop the comment before it left his mouth, remembering too late that Vepnihr could easily break his wrists.

Vepnihr’s eyes flashed red for just a moment before he was releasing Dipper and shoving him back, the force sending the teen stumbling. The demon waved a hand and the hallway warped into a void-like area, not unlike what Bill had pulled him into before, but completely red. It shifted around them in blood-like shades of crimson, heat curling off of it like fire. 

Dipper looked around himself frantically. Right. He was in Vepnihr’s mindscape. He lifted his fists in a fighting stance quickly, as if that would somehow protect him against a being who could manipulate the world around them. 

_Face it. You’re helpless without magic,_ a snide voice in the back of his head reminded him.

“Oh, I think I can remedy that,” Vepnihr announced with a wicked grin, curling the fingers of his hand again. As soon as he did, a pain broke out in Dipper’s side that was bad enough to wind him and send him collapsing onto his knees. 

Dipper knew he was swearing and screaming and begging for it to stop, but he couldn’t hear himself over the ringing in his ears as the pain spread. It started at the center of the mark, right where Bill’s depiction of himself was, and as it spread, it didn’t stop at the edges of the summoning circle. It felt like he was actually on fire, the flames dipping below his skin and spreading through his insides. 

“Stop!” he sobbed as he clutched desperately at his side as if he was able to extinguish the invisible flames. His skin was slowly blackening under the magic, Bill’s mark being covered up by yet another scar. “Stop, stop, please stop, fuck, _please_.” 

Vepnihr just laughed, looming over him as he doubled over, gasping for breath as hot tears streamed down his face. This was so much worse than Bill carving the mark into his skin, and he had done that with his actual _claws_. 

It felt like poison, like _acid_ , and the pain was bad enough to make Dipper start to see black spots behind his eyes. For a scary moment, Dipper considered just begging Vepnihr to kill him, _anything_ but this, but then the pain stopped as suddenly as it had started.

Dipper couldn’t even think of how relieved he was; he was just collapsing fully onto the ground- well, the solid surface beneath him in this red void- and sobbing. He continued to clutch at his side and stomach, unwilling to expose himself again as if doing so would allow the pain to start once again.

Vepnihr crouched down next to him, and when one of his hands once again landed in Dipper’s hair, threading through his curls, the boy just whimpered and held still. The demon chuckled quietly. “That’s what I thought.” 

His hand left Dipper’s hair as he stood again, gently toeing the boy in the side to try and get a reaction. When he didn’t get one, he laughed again, the sound cold and heartless. “This is why I love your fighting spirit, Dipper. It’s so fun to break.”

Despite the phantom feeling of the pain still curling in his stomach, Dipper pushed himself back up until he was on his knees. He glared at Vepnihr through the tears in his eyes, body still shaking. He wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and pretend that he could fall asleep and wake up when this was over. 

Vepnihr eyed up the defiant look in his eyes, raising an eyebrow. “Still got it, huh?” He sighed dramatically, the world around them fading back into the long hallway. The walls seemed to close in around them, making Dipper feel a bit trapped, but it felt better to have solid surroundings than the void. 

“Your resolve is as beautiful as it is annoying,” the demon lamented sarcastically, pinching the bridge of his nose. His cockiness made Dipper want to strangle him now more than ever. When he looked back down at the boy, his eyes were filled with mirth. “That will come in handy in battle. I know I made the right choice with you.” 

“I- I’m not going to fight for you,” Dipper choked out, his voice weak. Resolve. That was all he had going for him here.

He wouldn’t let Vepnihr break him that easily.

“Oh, I think you will,” the demon purred, grinning. “When that portal rips Gravity Falls apart, you’re going to be the one rending souls and helping me to absorb all of the dark energy.”

_Portal_?

Was that what the mysterious “countdown” was about? A portal? But how? And for what?

He knew that Vepnihr wouldn’t answer his question straightforwardly if he asked, so he just bit back, “You liked my stubbornness, remember? Well, that’s what you’re getting.”

Vepnihr eyed him carefully for a moment before crossing his arms over his chest. Dipper made himself remain still at the movement and didn’t allow his sigh of relief when the demon didn’t hit him again. “I wish you’d see that this won’t be so horrible, Dipper. I’m offering you companionship. For _eternity_.”

There were those words again, the words hinting that Vepnihr planned to make him immortal. Dipper didn’t let it get to him. “You don’t want a partner. You want a pet.”

The demon shrugged. “Is there really a difference?”

_Yes_ , Dipper thought. _There is._

There was with Bill, at least. 

Maybe the blonde demon had thought of him as a pet at the start. But by the end, there was no question about it: they were equals. 

“I’m not helping you,” Dipper repeated, slower this time, enunciating every syllable. 

Vepnihr’s eyes flared red. “What does it take with you?” he snarled, taking a step forward. Dipper didn’t flinch. “Do I need to call you ‘Pine Tree,’ huh? Somehow Bill had you eating out of the palm of his hand. Maybe you want me to treat you like he did.”

Dipper froze. The movement didn’t going unnoticed. Vepnihr’s face lit up with a devious smirk.

“Oh, so that’s it, is it?” he asked. His face had to hurt with how big he was grinning. “Well, in that case. Get used to it, _Pine Tree._ ”

The words seemed to snap something within Dipper, for he didn’t even recognize what he was doing before he was on his feet and slamming Vepnihr into the hallway’s wall. He pinned the demon’s throat with one forearm and slammed his opposite fist into Vepnihr’s face. His nose was pushed to the side with a sickening _crack_ , but the demon didn’t even cry out. It was obvious that he only had the upper hand because Vepnihr- for once- hadn’t been anticipating his move. 

All of those lessons spent fighting with Bill were proving to be useful after all. 

“Don’t you fucking bring Bill into this,” he hissed, arms shooting out to pin the demon’s. Vepnihr’s eyes were widened, lip curled back into a snarl. His face had morphed into something less like his human vessel and more demonic, eyes going completely black.

“Bill was already part of this, _Pine Tree,_ ” he mocked. Dipper brought his hand down to hit him again without thinking, making the mistake of releasing one of Vepnihr’s hands. The demon used this to his advantage, throwing the boy off of him and jamming an elbow into Dipper’s throat as he flipped their position, efficiently cutting off his air flow.

“Bill was in this from the start, Dipper,” Vepnihr murmured quietly, the grin returning to his face as Dipper tried desperately to throw off the grip now pinning his wrists. He gasped for air, panic setting in when he couldn’t get any. 

“He’s been in this since a long time before you were even around, kid,” the demon continued. “I know that you like to think that he’s _your demon_ , or whatever, or that you’re special, or something. You’re not. You’re one of Bill’s pawns. He’s had tons before you, and he’ll have a ton after you. He was _using you_ , Dipper. He leeched energy and magic off of you. He trained you to make a weapon.”

The elbow digging into his throat retracted just enough to allow the boy to breathe again, but not enough to un-pin him.

“I guess I can thank him for that, can’t I?” Vepnihr joked, laughing. “He made a weapon and practically just handed it off to me. Oh, chaos, don’t even get me started on how rich that is. You love to think that you’re so important to him, more than just a toy, but he left you anyways. I’ve seen Bill go through many humans before, but they always die or disappear just in time for him to claim their souls. _He’s_ never the one to leave _them_. Still feeling special?”

“You're lying,” Dipper choked. There were spots clouding his vision. His head was starting to ache from hitting the wall.

Vepnihr rolled his eyes. “He didn’t _want you_ , Dipper. He got tired of you. Bored. Like a child who’s played with their favorite toy so much that it’s not fun anymore.”

“He- he just wanted to get out of Gravity Falls when he c-”

“And he couldn’t have taken you with him?”

Dipper wanted to scream, _no, of course he couldn’t,_ but it hit him like a wave of freezing cold water when the words sunk in. 

Bill couldn’t have taken Dipper with him… could he?

Vepnihr must have seen the horrified recognition in Dipper’s eyes and realized that the boy was subdued, for he allowed his arms to fall away and Dipper to collapse back against the wall. 

The words echoed in Dipper’s mind. _No,_ he told himself. _It can’t be._

Vepnihr walked away with a chuckle. “Sorry to ruin your lovey-dovey dreams, _Pine Tree._ ”

That was it. Dipper’s head shot up at the nickname and whatever hesitance had been implanted in him from the demon’s words faded away as a cold rage sunk into his chest. He moved instantly, barreling into Vepnihr, whose back was still turned to him. 

There was a blur of motion as the demon twisted on the ground underneath him and he once again sent his fist flying, this time into Vepnihr’s jaw. 

He forgot what happened after that. There was a haze of angry yelling and fists flying and claws scraping and Dipper didn’t know how long it went on, but soon enough, he was aching all over and there was a cut on his cheek that he was pretty sure had been put there by Vepnihr’s fingernails. 

“You just don’t give up, do you, kid?” Vepnihr hissed as he yanked Dipper’s head back by his hair. Dipper jabbed his elbow into the other’s clavicle, startling him enough to make him release his hold. 

“Never,” he replied quickly. 

There was another scramble, and when it ended, Dipper was now the one on his back, the wind knocked out of him. Vepnihr was now standing, a foot pressed down onto Dipper’s throat. Dipper wondered how beaten up his body was outside of the mindscape. 

“What a little _brat_ ,” the demon snarled, pushing down harder with his foot. Dipper choked. “It’s no wonder Bill got rid of you.”

Dipper’s hands flew up to grab at the demon’s foot, desperate to pull it away, but suddenly, the mindscape trembled around them. His eyes flew to Vepnihr, who looked just as startled as he felt, so it obviously wasn’t his doing. 

The pressure on his throat left just as all of the light vanished from the hall and the mindscape crumbled. 

He didn’t know how to explain what happened after that. The universe shifted around them at a lightning-fast speed, sound echoing so loudly in his ears that all he heard was silence. He couldn’t keep his eyes open, lights flashing and wind whipping around, but he was suddenly all-too-aware of when he landed back in his physical form.

He expected to wake up on the floor of the church where his body had landed, but it only took him a fraction of a second to recognize the cold and the falling sensation and let out a startled yell. He opened his eyes fast enough to see the world around him rushing by as he plummeted through the air, and he had enough time to take a breath and clamp his mouth shut before he broke the surface of the Gravity Falls lake.

He sunk for a long time. His head felt about ready to split at the seams, but he was still wondering from how high of a height he had fallen and how he’d gotten up there in the first place. 

It had to have been one of the gravitational anomalies that townsfolk had been talking about. 

That meant that it was time. The portal was opening. The barrier around Gravity Falls was breaking down. 

And Dipper was sinking ever-deeper into the lake. He had no idea that it went down that deep, but he had yet to hit the bottom by the time he ran out of air. 

He paddled uselessly towards the surface, the light in the distance seeming about a mile away. He begged his lungs not to force his mouth open in a desperate attempt to gasp for air that just wasn’t there.

He felt consciousness slipping from him by the time his head broke out of the water and air- too much air at once- flooded back into his lungs. His eyes slipped closed at the first sight of the flames taking over the forest.

He was only vaguely aware of hands pulling him out of the water, of one pair threading through his hair while another tried frantically to shake him awake. There were two voices yelling at him, both familiar, both wanted. 

“Pine Tree, _wake up_ ,” a voice snarled. 

“Dipper, please. You have to open your eyes,” a softer, feminine voice pleaded.

He wanted to listen, do as the voices asked of him, but his head was in too much of a shock from being deprived of oxygen. His body ached all over, and his nerve endings seemed content to just let it shut down and recover for awhile. He relaxed against one of the figures until their voices were no longer enough to keep him afloat.


	21. Chapter Twenty-One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this was posted much later in the day than I normally update. I had a pretty rough weekend and never got the time to write, so I had to hash this out this afternoon. 
> 
> One more chapter left!

"You look like shit, Pine Tree," was the first thing that Dipper heard as he woke up groggily. 

"Thanks, Bill," he grumbled sarcastically, bringing an arm up to shield his eyes from the sun- had the sun always been that bright?- before fully realizing the situation. He shot up quickly (bad idea, bad idea, _bad idea_ , because holy _shit_ did his head hurt). " _Bill_?" 

He just barely had time to take in the sight of the demon crouched on the ground in front of him, watching him with wide eyes, before a hand was tugging him back by his shoulder and scolding, "Woah, broski, slow down!" 

Mabel? "Oh my god, Mabel." Dipper was scrambling to turn around on his knees until he could throw his arms around his sister without even looking at her. "Mabel, Mabel, shit. Oh my god, are you okay?"

Her arms found their way around him too, a familiar, comfortable embrace. She rested her chin on top of his head. "Broski, I'm the one who should be asking _you_ that," she replied calmly, a hint of worry in her voice. 

He pulled back, taking her in. She still had on the same thing she had this morning- shit, how much time had passed since they'd been at the church?- with her hair still tied in a ponytail that couldn't have looked more out of place. She looked overall unharmed, though her jacket was damp from where he had been resting against her. 

He twisted back to look at Bill. His clothes still looked perfectly-pressed, hair flat and hat still floating in place. Out of the three of them, he was certainly the least worse for wear. When he saw Dipper staring at him, he extended a gloved hand and pulled the boy to his feet with him. Mabel jumped up after them a second later. 

Dipper didn't know who to look at. His sister, who was miraculously _okay_ and _here_ , or... the demon he hadn't expected to ever see again. 

Instead, he settled on staring at the pine trees on the edge of the forest around them, most blackened and singed and smoking. He recalled seeing them ablaze before he hit the water and wondered how long he'd been out. 

"It's only been about fifteen minutes," Mabel answered for him, as if reading his mind. "Maybe half an hour."

Half an hour was a long time to waste when they were on the brink of the apocalypse. 

“What’s the state of… everything?” he asked a bit warily, shooting a worried glance towards his sister. 

“Herded everybody in town into the basement of city hall,” she murmured, wringing her hands and looking as if she wanted to touch Dipper’s face for some reason. He remembered the state that he’d been in in the mindscape, and when he brought his fingers up to brush against where Vepnihr had dragged his claws down the skin, they came away red. 

He probably really did look like shit, then.

“How did you manage to-”

“I had Paz call her parents. I’m not sure what she told them, but when it was bad enough to scare Preston and Priscilla Northwest into a _basement_ , it was easy enough to convince everybody else to go with them.” Mabel grinned at him, and despite the situation, he couldn’t help but grin back. His sister- and her girlfriend- had too much power. Her smile faded and her face became solemn as she continued, “It… got pretty bad, though. I don’t know how much the townsfolk saw, but there were things that the Journal had never even mentioned. Things out of _nightmares_ , Dipper. If anybody caught glimpses of those things… Well, we still have the memory erasing gun, right?”

Dipper shivered at the realization of what she meant. If things were bad enough for Mabel to consider erasing the memory out of townsfolks’ heads- the main reason why they had shut down the Blind Eye in the first place- then they truly had to be nightmare material. “What does the town look like?” he asked, not really wanting to know the answer. He took another glance at the smoke coming off the trees, thicker smoke in the distance implying that Gravity Falls wasn’t much better off. 

Mabel took a shaky breath. Her eyes were wide and shining a bit. “It’s…” She trailed off, casting her eyes down.

“It’s in shambles, Pine Tree,” Bill supplied. Dipper nearly jumped at the voice, having practically forgotten that he was there. 

He turned to stare at Bill, but it was Mabel who continued, “Before we found you, Bill and I… took care of some things. We stopped most of the things trying to escape through the barrier, but everything now is just ransacking town. We’re going to have a lot of cleaning up to do after all of this is over.”

The fact that Mabel believed that they would still be alive to clean up after all of this- even if she was generally just optimistic- was enough to give him hope. He nodded. “What about Vepnihr?”

Mabel and Bill exchanged a glance. Dipper hated it. He hated knowing that he had missed so much. He still didn’t know how they had even found him. Why Bill had come back.

“He’s going after Grunkle Stan,” Mabel answered quietly. Dipper’s heart skipped a beat.

“What? _Why_?” No. No way. It couldn’t be that Grunkle Stan had something to do with this.

Of course it could. Dipper just didn’t want to believe it.

“He built a portal underneath the Shack, Dipper.” Mabel’s voice was steady, unwavering. She sounded like she’d rehearsed this several times already in her head. Dipper’s heart was pounding in his ears. “You left the Journal here over winter break, right? Well, it turns out that Stan had the other two the whole time. The map page is actually a diagram to build a portal to another world.”

Mabel’s words sounded like gibberish to him. It was like he was reading something out of a textbook but not letting the words register in his head enough for them to make sense. 

"What's on the other side of the portal?" he asked shakily. He didn't want to know. He didn't want to accept that his uncle, a man who he was sure that he knew, could have created a device that could possibly tear Gravity Falls apart.

Mabel’s lack of response combined with her worried stare were sobering enough to make him realize that he _had_ to accept it. 

He turned his gaze on Bill, who was, as always, just watching him. His stare was a bit cold but not unwelcomed. He raised an eyebrow at the demon, which prompted him to sigh, fold his arms behind his head, and turn a lazy stare on Dipper before responding, “It’s a collision of too many worlds for your tiny meatsack brain to even comprehend, Pine Tree. That portal will open up Gravity Falls to a colossal amount of otherworlds.”

“But why would Grunkle Stan want to do that?” he exclaimed. The volume of his voice caused Mabel to jump, and he shot her an apologetic glance. 

But _why_. That seemed to be the biggest question ringing in his mind. Why was Bill doing this, when he should be escaping through the barrier? There couldn’t be much time left before it would close again. Why did Vepnihr want to go after Stan? Why did Vepnihr want _Dipper_? 

Was it all really just about a demon’s game of dominance?

The look that Bill gave him made him squirm- as if the answer was obvious, and Dipper was just slow. “Because, Pine Tree,” he responded, slow as molasses and enunciating every syllable, “he’s bringing back the Author.”

Silence dropped over the clearing. Dipper just stared at Bill, as if waiting for him to continue the sentence with anything that wasn’t, “of the Journals,” or to add a punchline. When neither of those things happened, he stared at Mabel. She just seemed to be gauging his reaction. There was no hint of a joke in her eyes.

When he realized that there couldn’t have possibly been anything else that Bill had meant, his heart dropped into his stomach and the world seemed to freeze around him.

Stan knew the Author of the Journals? Had he known the entire time and just stood by watching as Dipper tried desperately to learn his identity? 

In a way, it made sense. The way that Stan had reacted when the Shack burned down, destroying the Journal with it. The Shack had been destroyed many times over the years by varying supernatural creatures, but never before had Dipper left the Journal inside. 

And hadn’t Stan once talked to him about a friend he had once had who was much like Dipper and always getting into trouble with the paranormal? 

Plus, it would explain the tension between Stan and Bill. If Stan was friends with the Author and Bill had had something to do with the Author’s disappearance- and now, more than ever, Dipper was sure that Bill did- then Stan would have every reason to hate him.

He didn’t know who he should be feeling more betrayed by.

He looked to his sister. She sighed and returned his stare, brushing her bangs out of her face. “He told you?” the boy asked, gesturing vaguely towards Bill. 

She nodded. “Mmhmm.” Her face, while normally so readable based on her emotions, didn’t offer any answers.

His gaze returned to Bill. The demon was also watching him with an unreadable expression. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?” He didn’t mean for it to come out as an accusation. “We were-” He broke off. No, they weren’t. They weren’t ever together. They had a deal. 

_A deal that’s now over_ , Dipper reminded himself, pushing up the cuff of his flannel to rub at the inside of his wrist where the mark had once laid beneath the skin.

Bill’s eyes flashed blue, but only for a second. He dragged his eyes slowly up Dipper’s body, taking in the way his still-damp clothes stuck to his skin, and the boy’s face burned. _He’s seen you naked_ , he reminded himself, then pushed the thought as far out of his head as he could. Not the time.

“It wasn’t my place to tell you, kid,” Bill sighed, actually sounding a bit remorseful about it. Just that was enough to make a bit of the hurt, betrayed feeling in Dipper’s chest diminish, but he quickly brought it back by thinking about how Mabel knew before he did. 

“But you can tell me now?” he challenged. The moment it left his mouth, he regretted it. They didn’t have time for childish, snide remarks right now. He shook his head when Bill opened his mouth to respond, cutting him off, and took a shaky breath. He squeezed his eyes shut for just a moment and when he opened them again, Bill’s golden orbs were burning into him. “Why are you here?” Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Mabel shrink away at the question, and he frowned.

Bill shrugged. “Shooting Star summoned me. Told me that you went with Vepnihr- and of course you did, as you were playing the martyr card that I told you not to play. She wanted me to come help save your stupid ass.”

There was just a moment of calm before Dipper was whirling around to his sister and yelling, “You made a _deal_?”

Bill blurted, “She didn’t have to,” at the same time that Mabel calmly replied, “I didn’t have to.”

He looked incredulously at his twin and then at Bill, who was staring at the ground as if it was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen and kicking his feet against the dirt. 

“Bill-”

“Look, Pine Tree, we’ve gotta get going, okay? We’ve got maybe fifteen minutes before that portal opens, and you’re probably gonna want to be there if you want Stan to live. So let’s get going.”

Mabel slid up to him and hooked her arm with his. She smiled reassuringly at him, though her eyes remained scared. 

He didn’t protest when Bill rested a hand on his other arm. He already felt the demon’s magic coursing through him. He nodded. “Okay.”

\-----

Saying that the Shack didn’t look good would be an understatement. 

Most of the building itself was still intact, but the surrounding area looked like a warzone. The ground was charred, and Dipper was sure that the treeline had once come in much closer to the parking lot than it did now. The totem pole had been cracked in half, the top part of it lying somewhere across the grounds. The letters on the roof had mostly all fallen down, so that the ‘MYSTERY HACK’ now just said, ‘ST R K.’ A lone flag still burned, and Dipper’s first action upon phasing in front of the tourist trap was to wave a hand and magically will the flames away. 

He watched Mabel double over, and he rubbed a soothing hand on her upper back as her internal organs seemed to catch up with the rest of her body. Right. She wasn’t used to teleporting. Luckily, she held her stomach, and she stood up with just a grimace after a few seconds.

There was a sound like an explosion and the Mystery Shack seemed to lift off the ground just a foot before crashing back down. Dipper and Mabel both jumped, Bill seeming to be the only one unaffected as he crossed his arms and stared the building down. 

Mabel’s hand found his to squeeze it, just once, before letting it drop again. “Ready?” she asked. 

He took a deep breath. “As I’ll ever be.”

They hurried up the steps, Bill trailing behind them. Dipper couldn’t get over the fact that he had come with Mabel willingly out of his head. _Why_? He was giving up his chance to escape town. He had to have some sort of ulterior motive. 

No time to think about that now. 

The lights in the giftshop were out- or, more accurately, all of the lightbulbs had burst and shattered glass lay all around the floor. Dipper shot a glance over to his sister to make sure that she was wearing thick shoes, just in case. Most of the merchandise had been knocked to the floor, broken snowglobes mixing antifreeze water in with glitter and glass. 

There was another crash from somewhere beneath them, shaking the building and making the now-empty shelves of the giftshop rattle. Mabel jumped again, making a squeaking noise, and Dipper quickly found himself instinctively grabbing onto the sleeve of Bill’s dress shirt. When the noise died down and Dipper realized what he had done, he dropped his hand and took a step away, casting his eyes down. He didn’t miss the smirk that quirked at Bill’s lips.

“Wow, Pine Tree, I didn’t realize you-”

“Now’s not the time,” he muttered quickly. Bill laughed. He looked at Mabel. “How do we get down there? The Mystery Shack doesn’t have a basement.”

She pointed at something. He followed her hand, eyes landing on… the vending machine? 

“Mabel, what…” He trailed off.

The code. 

His hand flew down to dig in his pocket, finding the crumpled up slip of paper that Bill had given him. He pulled it out, seeing that the pen-written letters were now smeared from the water. It was just barely legible. Not that that really mattered- Dipper had stared at it enough in the past few days, trying to decipher it, that he already knew exactly what the code was. 

He practically ran up to the vending machine, quickly hitting the keys in the order of the written message. _’A-1-B-C-3.’_ He almost didn’t expect it to work, but after just a second, there was the distinct sound of locks coming undone as the vending machine pulled out from the wall like a trapdoor hidden in a bookcase.

Bill had given him all of the hints he could. Dipper was just too caught up in everything else going on to see it. 

He tried not to shake as he hurried down the spiral stairs, two sets of footsteps behind him indicating that Mabel and Bill were right behind. After a while, he began to see flashes of blue lights and hear yelling, so he started to run, nearly tripping and falling down the last flight.

They burst into the control room right before the portal room just as Stan was knocked to the floor by a blast of purple magic. 

The three of them ran to the doorway, watching in shocked horror. Vepnihr stood across the room as the portal flared to life behind him. For just a moment, Dipper stumbled to a stop, his breath catching as he stared at the giant machine and the rooms around him. Lights flashed, things whirred and buzzed, and the Journals were laid out on a table in front of a large window overlooking the portal room.

The Journals. The first and second Journal. Stan had had them the entire time. 

Vepnihr hadn’t seemed to notice their presence yet, instead striding up to Stan. He said something, but over the roaring of the portal and the beeping of the countdown clock every second- showing only nine minutes and forty-two seconds- they couldn’t hear what it was. 

Mabel stepped into the next room and tugged on the sleeve of his flannel, trying to pull him forward. “Dipper,” she hissed.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the portal. Lights flashed around it, a circle centered in an upside-down triangle. In the middle of it all was a space-like void. The room was hot, but Dipper could practically feel the chill coming off of the machine.

A portal into another world. An infinite amount of other worlds. And it had been under the Mystery Shack the entire time.

“No time to be questioning your life right now, Pine Tree,” Bill said quietly, leaning in close. Dipper flinched. He hated that he was so readable. 

He looked at his sister. Her eyes were wide and worried, staring at Grunkle Stan, and he was sure the only reason she hadn’t run over to him yet was because she was scared of what would happen to him if she did. “Mabel, Stan has been hiding this from us for years,” he murmured, his voice void of emotion. A coldness settled over him, almost enough to counter the burning of betrayal in his chest.

When she looked back at him, he wasn’t surprised to see tears brimming in her eyes. “That doesn’t mean he hasn’t had a good reason to, Dipper.”

For just a moment, he hated his sister- hated that she was so full of optimism even when all of the odds were against them. But he couldn’t let himself dwell on it. They had much bigger issues to deal with than turning on each other.

“We have to shut it down,” he ground out quietly before hurrying into the room.

He ignored Mabel’s cries of, “Dipper, wait!” and Bill rushing out, “Pine Tree, that’s probably not the best idea,” and approached Vepnihr. The demon turned just before Dipper made it to him, but he didn’t have enough time to react before Dipper was shoving him back.

“It’s over, Vepnihr,” he hissed. “This ends here. I’m not going to be your slave. Call off the deal.”

He heard Grunkle Stan saying his name in a confused panic before Mabel was hurrying over to him and pulling him off the floor. Dipper stared down the demon in front of him, whose confused expression quickly faded into a calm one as he laughed. 

“That’s not your decision to make, kid,” he chuckled with a wicked grin, mock-wiping a tear from his eye. “But I’m glad you’re here. You arrived just in time to witness my plan in the making.”

“What’s your plan?” he asked before he could stop himself, the words throwing him off. His eyes landed on the countdown behind Vepnihr. Less than eight minutes. Mabel had pulled Grunkle Stan somewhere outside of his peripheral vision. He could sense Bill’s presence behind him, oddly enough. Even though their deal had been broken, he could still feel the demon’s magic like an electric current.

Vepnihr smirked. He sighed dramatically, leaning up against a lever. The movement wasn’t lost on Dipper, whose eyes locked immediately on the three keys inserted into part of the machine. 

_You have to shut it down_ , he told himself again. _You can’t let this destroy Gravity Falls. Whatever Grunkle Stan is doing this for, it can’t be worth risking the end of this town._

“Having access to this portal will give me the ability to merge a million different dimensions, kid,” Vepnihr explained, his tone far too casual for what he was insinuating. “It will turn this into a nightmare realm, and I’ll be the one controlling it.”

Dipper stared at him, mouth slightly agape in horror. From somewhere behind him, Stan shouted, “That’ll never happen, you bastard!” before Mabel seemed to slap a hand over his mouth to muffle his cries. 

At least she seemed to have recognized how dangerous Vepnihr could be when he was trying to get something he wanted.

“And,” Vepnihr continued, eyes glinting in the flashing lights coming off of the portal, “judging by the fact that Cipher is still here and not moved on to the next hotspot town, I’d be willing to bet that he decided he wanted to do the same as me, after all.”

The words hit Dipper like a slap. He whirled around to look at Bill, who had his arms crossed and a fiery glare fixed on the other demon. He didn’t deny it.

The portal flashed, the image of outer space swirling around inside of it. The countdown continued to beep. Six and a half minutes. 

“What did you even want me for, if this was your plan all along?” Dipper cried. A gust of wind burst out of the portal, enough to send his hair whipping back. He stumbled, but only slightly. Vepnihr didn’t move an inch from where he was still leaning against the key box. 

“I’ve been nothing but honest to you, Dipper,” the demon called over the noise, shrugging. “I wanted a pet. A companion. An assistant. That hasn’t changed. I can rule over my new nightmare realm with you at my side. You’ll have more power than most of the world, kid, second only to me.”

There were more muffled cries of protest behind him. He wondered what Mabel was doing. Bill still didn’t say anything. 

“What’s the alternative?” he challenged. He couldn’t believe the words once they escaped his mouth. He wasn’t considering this. He wasn’t.

He was just hurt. Bill hadn’t come back for him. He wasn’t helping them because he cared. He just wanted to be the one to rule over the new world. The destroyed world. He was an enemy.

He was just as bad as Vepnihr.

“Then I’ll just kill you.” The dark-haired demon shrugged again. “Trust me, Dipper, it won’t be too hard to find a replacement. In the new world, I’ll have everybody begging at my feet to work for me.”

Behind him, he could sense Bill shifting uncomfortably. He wasn’t sure if he was just imagining it, but he started to feel as though he could sense the demon’s emotions, as well, and he was being hit by a whole lot of anger and uncertainty. 

He didn’t dwell on what that could mean.

“Grunkle Stan, shut it down,” he ordered, whirling around to face his sister and his great uncle. They were both defiantly staring the demon down, Grunkle Stan looking livid with a busted lip as Mabel reassuringly rubbed his upper arm. 

“Kid, I can’t. You don’t understand. In that portal is-” Another blast of wind came out of the machine, this time strong enough to send them all back a few feet. The wind didn’t stop this time, whipping around the room. A loose metal beam broke off of the ceiling and came flying down, and it just narrowly missed hitting Mabel. 

This time, it had been enough to jostle Vepnihr out of the way. Dipper used this to his advantage, rushing over to the key box and turning all three keys before the demon could get back.

“Pine Tree, _stop_ ,” Bill’s voice snarled from somewhere behind him- much closer than he had been a moment before. 

Dipper’s eyes flew to a red button. The words _’EMERGENCY SHUTDOWN’_ clearly labeled it. He began to work his way towards it, the gravitational changes making it feel like he was wading through rocky water.

“I’m not letting you do this, _Bill_ ,” he shouted angrily in response, making sure the demon knew that he was being addressed. 

“T-minus five minutes,” a robotic woman’s voice said, ringing out over the speakers. 

Dipper had made it up the few steps and was almost to the button when Bill barreled into him, knocking him down. The impact with the ground probably would have hurt a lot more if not for the thickness in the air and the utter chaos of the room. 

Bill pinned him down with a forearm against his throat. His eyes were still their usual gold, somehow not yet turned to red, but they were blown and showed a mix of worry and anger. It wasn’t the look that Dipper had been expecting. “You have _no idea_ what you’re dealing with, kid,” he hissed. “After all of this, you can’t seriously believe that I don’t have your best interests in mind.”

“You’re a _demon_ ,” Dipper ground out in response, his voice shaking. There was a familiar stinging behind his eyes and a ringing in his ears. He didn’t let the tears come. “Of course I can’t believe you.” One hand came up to yank Bill’s head back by his hair, making the demon yelp, while the other hand grabbed his side as he sent a shock of magic through him. 

The blow was enough to send Bill flying off of him, and Dipper wasted no time in pushing himself to his feet. 

A fight had broken out between Vepnihr and Stan, the demon blatantly using his magic to attack the old man while Stan responded with fists flying. Mabel was running over to Bill, knocked to the ground, and Dipper didn’t let that sting as much as it should have. 

The robotic woman’s voice announced, “T-minus three minutes,” and all hell broke loose.

More metal beams broke loose from the ceiling, one flying down and nearly taking Dipper’s head off. He sent it flying away with a blast of magic just in time. 

The noise level from the void picked up as the stars swirled around. A loud, metallic screeching filled the air, and Dipper had to fight not to cover his ears. 

The scuffle between his great uncle and Vepnihr finally broke off as the demon moved to stand in front of the portal. Stan looked worse for wear, clutching his side as he stared in horror at Vepnihr. Dipper moved on instinct, going to pull his uncle out of the crossfire and back into the control room. 

Stan resisted him, of course, turning a glare on Dipper the moment he felt the boy’s hand on him. Dipper pulled anyway, and Stan was too weak to put up too much of a fight. “Dipper, you can’t shut it down,” Stan yelled over the noise, and the desperate look in his eyes was enough to break through Dipper’s icy barrier for just a moment. 

“How can you expect me to listen to you, Stan?” he yelled over the noise, the tears once again feeling like pinpricks behind his eyes. “You’ve been keeping this from us for years!”

“You just have to _trust me_ , Dipper!” his great uncle pleaded, hands locking on the doorframe when Dipper tried to shove him through. 

Dipper locked eyes with the old man for a long moment. There seemed to be nothing but truth in them. However…

“‘Trust no one,’” Dipper recited, a feeling similar to hatred burning in his lungs. “Since you knew the Author so well, that’s one message you should be familiar with.” He shoved the man out of the portal room and slammed the door, sliding the deadbolt home even as his uncle pounded angrily on the other side of the steel. 

He turned around to face the portal again. The countdown read one minute and twenty-seven seconds. He ran forward to the best of his abilities, fighting it as the gravity tried to push him back.

Bill and Vepnihr were now the ones locked in a heated fight, waves of magic being sent flying from each. Mabel cowered away, just barely on the sidelines and out of the crossfire. There was a look of fear and uncertainty in her eyes. 

“Mabel, you’ve got to shut the machine down!” Dipper yelled as the wind forced him back. Overhead, one of the lights shattered. The flashing ones on the machine only seemed to pulse brighter.

“Dipper, I _can’t_! You don’t understand!” she yelled back, pleaded with her eyes for him to get it. 

She was right. He didn’t understand. They had all heard Vepnihr’s plan- Bill’s plan- and yet he was the only one who recognized that they needed to stop the portal from opening. 

“T-minus one minute,” the voice announced. 

There was the sound of shattering glass behind him and Dipper jumped as a brick flew through the window from the control room. It broke the whole window, the wind sending the broken glass flying back into the other room. Stan seemed to be burning with rage as he shouted, “Dipper, the Author is my twin brother!”

“What?” Dipper yelled back, heart stopping as the words sunk in. The world was a blur of noise and wind around him, and yet those words seemed to be louder than everything else. 

He could practically hear Bill saying, _”I haven’t seen this since another pair of troublesome twins I used to know,”_ as the full implications of this new knowledge hit him. 

The Author of the Journals was Stan’s brother. Dipper was related to the Author. 

Stan was trying to bring back his brother. 

Dipper didn’t have time to think about his decision. The countdown read thirty seconds. Vepnihr, Bill, and Mabel had all been knocked back. He moved quickly, making his way to the button. “I’m sorry, Stan,” he murmured to himself, eyes stinging. He couldn’t let the world be destroyed. 

A body barreled into him, and this time, it wasn’t either of the demons. He knocked his head on the metal railing as Mabel pushed him back, an apology clear in her eyes. 

“Mabel, _stop_!” he cried, feeling her magic creeping around to hold him in place as tears dripped down from her face and landed on his. 

“I trust Grunkle Stan, Dipper,” she yelled back at him. “Maybe you should too.”

That was the last thing he heard before the world seemed to break down around them. There was a loud noise before silence, a bright flash before darkness. A moment of utter chaos, and then calm. Dipper felt himself being thrown across the room, and the feeling of his body knocking into the wall and sliding to the floor was only a dull pain in comparison to the fear of what was to come. 

A figure emerged from the portal, blocking part of the bright light for just a moment as the world returned to normal.

There was only a brief moment of peace before several things happened at once: the figure pushed his goggles up to his head, making it obvious that he _was_ indeed closely related to Stan; Stan himself pushed his way through the broken window and stumbled into the room, desperate to get to his brother; Vepnihr slammed Bill’s head against the wall with a sickening _crack_ and took off running towards the steps. 

The demon made it to the Author before Stan did, of course. He grabbed the startled man by the front of his long coat and threw him down the steps. The man’s head hit the floor and he seemed to fall into unconsciousness immediately. Both Stan and Mabel were crying out in alarm and hurrying over to him. Dipper’s eyes never left Vepnihr. 

As the demon stood in front of the portal, the binding tattoos on his arms, clear from the way his shirt sleeves were pushed up, pulsed and glowed. 

Suddenly, the solution was clear to Dipper. 

He ignored the pounding of his head and forced his way to his feet. Bill’s form lay crumpled on the ground not far from him, but he didn’t allow himself to stare for too long. Bill would be fine. He was a demon. He couldn’t die from something like that. Dipper shouldn’t even care anyway. He was a _demon_. 

Dipper picked up a broken piece of metal from the ground, running a finger over the razor-sharp edge just to test it. Blood formed at his fingertip. He gripped it tighter in one hand and approached the demon, whose attention was still focused on the portal.

“Hey, Vepnihr.” The dark-haired demon started at his voice and whirled around, hair whipping in the wind, and Dipper didn’t let the knowledge that this body had once belonged to a human get to him too much before he was shoving the demon back and raising the metal. Vepnihr didn’t seem too startled by the makeshift weapon, likely knowing that it wouldn’t be able to hurt him too badly, but by the time Dipper brought it down to slice his arm open, he was yowling. 

There was a scuffle and a scary moment where Dipper felt the void inside of the portal pulling him back and he feared he would get sucked in, but he focused on the task at hand. He cut the binding runes open, marring them beyond recognition, and moved to work on the other arm. 

Vepnihr fought back, of course. He kicked and punched and screamed and shot magic at him. Dipper was numb to the pain at this point, unsure if the roaring in his head was from his shot nerve endings or from the sound still encompassing the room.

Vepnihr threw a punch, and Dipper used that as an opportunity to bring the sharp metal up and cut the skin open. 

When the runes were cut, Dipper dropped the metal piece and stumbled back. Vepnihr was glowing red now, and smoke almost seemed to be coming off of his body as blood poured out of the wounds on his arms. He was shaking and Dipper wasn’t sure if he was seeing double or if Vepnihr was just being forced out of the vessel now that there was nothing binding him to it. 

In the end, the demon was still laughing, and the sound was cold enough to send shivers of horror down Dipper’s spine. Oh, god, he was going to die. Vepnihr was going to kill him. 

Except that didn’t happen. Vepnihr’s last move before being expelled from Cadyn Deal’s body was to move down the steps and haul Mabel up fast enough that neither she nor Dipper had any time to react. With one rough toss, he sent her stumbling towards the portal. 

It all happened so quickly. Dipper didn’t even have time to scream her name as her horrified gaze locked on his before the void swallowed her up. 

Vepnihr’s laugh rang out loudly in the room before his body crumpled, lifeless, to the ground.


	22. Chapter Twenty-Two

Dipper Pines had experienced fear. He had experienced pain. He had experienced what it was like to have his life crumble into pieces around him.

None of that could compare to the reality of having his twin sister ripped away from him and tossed into a portal to _who knows where_.

He was vaguely aware of someone screaming, and he didn’t realize until much later that it was him. The utter cold sensation that overtook him was like nothing else, freezing his lungs and his heart and stopping his breath in his chest. 

Tears streaked down his cheeks even as the wind from the portal whipped his hair back and the gravitational changes lifted his heels off the ground. He heard Grunkle Stan behind him, abandoning his unconscious brother on the ground and yelling something that didn’t mean anything to Dipper. 

He hated him. This was Stan’s fault. Stan got his twin back and Dipper lost his. 

He had to go after her. 

Dipper only made it one step towards the portal before a pair of strong arms was catching him around the waist and a whisper-soft voice was breathing in his ear, “Oh, no you don’t.”

“Let me go,” Dipper snarled, thrashing out and trying to clip Bill’s jaw with his elbow. “I have to go after her!”

“You’ll _die_ if you go in there, kid,” Bill growled. He managed to turn Dipper around so the teen was face-to-face with him, and he gripped him tightly by the upper arms in an attempt to stop his thrashing limbs. Dipper glared at him from behind stinging eyes. 

“I can’t let _Mabel_ die,” he protested desperately. The words came out as a plea, the end of his sentence breaking off in a sob. He lost his will to fight, knees giving out as he realized the full implications of the demon’s words. If Dipper would die going after her, then what chance did Mabel have? Bill’s grip on him was the only thing keeping him up. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly for a long moment and the world around him spun. 

He opened his eyes again to the demon’s conflicted expression. He took in the sight of blood matted in the blonde’s hair that he hadn’t previously noticed- likely from having his head smashed against the wall by Vepnihr. It was a lot of blood. A human probably wouldn’t have survived it.

Bill took a shaky, heaving breath, gaze locked intensely on Dipper’s. “I’ll go,” he said lowly, barely audible over the wind. 

Dipper stared, and then took his head, trying again to shake off the demon’s grip. “No. No, you… You can’t be trusted! You’re just as bad as Vepnihr! You’re here to destroy the world, and you- you just want to go into the portal so you can open a nightmare realm!” His voice trembled, pitched much higher than usual, and he was fully aware of how young and scared he sounded. He pushed the thought out of his head. 

Bill’s eyes flashed red, lip curling back slightly. After a moment, he seemed to visually compose himself. “You’re really going to trust Vepnihr’s word over mine?” he snarled.

“I didn’t see you denying it!” Dipper yelled back, hands clenched tightly into fists. “And I- I don’t know what else you would have come back for!”

“I came back for _you_ , you idiotic meatsack!” Bill shouted, leaning in close to his face. As soon as what must have been a shocked expression flashed across Dipper’s face, the demon leaned back and looked away. He muttered, “I didn’t _have_ to help Shooting Star without a deal. She would have been willing to give up her soul to save you. And I didn’t _have_ to stop you from closing the portal- I just knew that you’d regret it later if you did. And I most certainly don’t have to save Shooting Star now, but I’m _going to_ ,” he released Dipper’s arms only to grip the front of his flannel with one hand, “because I’m not just going to stand by and watch you kill yourself for your sister. She’d hate that.” He shoved him back, sending Dipper stumbling back towards the stairs. 

Bill walked, unhesitating, into the portal before Dipper even had the chance to react to his words.

“No!” he screamed, reaching out uselessly towards the portal, but when he felt Grunkle Stan’s firm grip on his shoulder, he didn’t fight him. Instead, he fell to his knees, all of the air leaving his lungs.

Why did this keep happening to him? _How_? Having everything he cared about torn away from him just when he needed it the most. 

Sure, he felt betrayed. It hurt his chest just to think of all of the lies that his family had been telling him for years. It hurt to think of how everybody had turned against him and in the end, it had resulted in him losing both Mabel and Bill. 

“Dipper.”

He tore his eyes off of his trembling hands to glare at his great uncle, looking down at him with a solemn expression. “You did this,” he spat. Stan flinched. There wasn’t as much venom in it as he wanted. He was too exhausted, too drained.

“He’ll get her back, Dipper,” the old man told him, reaching out like he wanted to touch Dipper’s shoulder again. He dropped his hand at the last second. 

“ _Now_ you’re ready to trust Bill?” the boy choked out, staring up at Stan incredulously. 

“It’s the only hope we have,” Stan bit back, instantly looking like he regretted the harshness of the words when Dipper flinched. His voice lowered, words soft when he murmured, “I got my twin back, kid. You will too.”

 _Yeah, but I don’t want to wait thirty-seven years for it,_ Dipper thought, dropping his head into his hands. 

“Dip, you’ve just gotta hold faith that-” Stan broke off as a loud crash sounded above them, volume high enough to echo over the roaring of the portal. 

Dipper looked up, his battle instincts good enough to have him jumping to his feet immediately. The laboratory shook, more pieces of metal breaking off from the ceiling. The entire room went dark for a few seconds, including the portal, and when the lighting returned, a terrifying mass of curling black smoke and floating eyes was hovering above them.

He and Stan must have looked comically shocked, for a disembodied laugh filled the room. 

_Vepnihr_. 

Dipper shot a glance towards the broken and bloodied body on the ground in front of the portal. Right. Bill had told him this before. If a demon was hurt badly enough for their body to be killed, they would just be expelled from the body and back into the mindscape. 

Needless to say, Vepnihr’s true form was much worse than Bill’s.

“It’s over, ya filthy demon!” Stan yelled over the noise as the portal roared back up to life. All of the eyes in the floating mass blinked at once. Another laugh filled the room, bouncing off the walls around them. 

“Oh, it looks like it’s still going on to me,” a disembodied voice rang out. It was deeper, more ethereal, but still distinctly Vepnihr’s. Still, it sounded like a thousand knives cutting into him and Dipper couldn’t help but shiver, feeling the hairs on his arms stand up. 

“As long as that portal is still open, I can still unleash the nightmare realm into this one,” Vepnihr continued. It was amazing the amount of mirth Dipper could pick up just from a voice and a large mass of eyes. “And I’m sure you wouldn’t want to close it with poor _Mabel_ still inside, would you?”

Of course they wouldn’t. Not when there was still a chance that Bill would be able to save her. 

It only took a second for Dipper to remember that this monster was the reason why he may never see his sister again and for him to become completely overtaken by his rage. Both of his hands ignited in magical blue flame, his hair flying up. Judging by the shocked and slightly horrified expression on his great uncle’s face, Dipper suspected that he looked slightly demonic himself. He almost worried that his eyes were flashing blue as Bill’s did when he used a lot of magic.

No. He couldn’t think about Bill right now. 

“My sister could be _dead_ because of you, you bastard!” Dipper snarled, sending a shock of magic up towards the apparition. 

The magic seemed to go right through the creature. It hit, but if Vepnihr showed any sign of feeling pain, Dipper didn’t see it. 

The demon just laughed again, the sound piercing Dipper’s ears over the rushing of the wind. “Don’t worry, kid. You’ll be joining her soon enough.” The black smoke seemed to come down, curling around them, and out of the corner of his eye, Dipper could see Stan looking around frantically for a way out. “It’s obvious you’re not going to comply, so you’re useless.”

The smoke wound its way around him, and the moment he was fully encircled, it turned into an electric current. The shock reverberated through him, pulling a scream from his lips and dousing the flames in his hands. 

_I’m going to die_ , Dipper thought as his knees buckled and the shocks continued to go through him. _I’m going to die and never see Mabel again. Never see Bill again. Oh, god, the last thing I said to Bill was that I couldn’t trust him._

The shocking sensation stopped just as suddenly as it had started. Dipper forced himself to look up even through the phantom sensations still coursing through him, only to see all of the eyes focused on a spot behind him. 

“Ah, Stanley Pines,” Vepnihr’s voice snarled. Stanley? “How _great_ it is to see you again.” The tone of his voice made it sound like it was anything but.

“I wish I could say the same,” a gruff voice behind him said. He twisted his neck, only to find that the Author- Stan’s twin, Stanley, right- was on his feet once more. He looked _livid_ , eyes burning in hatred. His long coat flapped in the wind, painting the picture of an epic explorer ready for a fight. 

Vepnihr had known the Author before, too?

The mass of eyes seemed to float closer over to the Author, Vepnihr’s attention diverted from Dipper. The teen used this to his advantage, crawling away until he was sure that he was out of the demon’s line of sight before he began to push himself to his feet. It took a few tries, his legs still feeling the aftershocks of the attack and collapsing a few times before finally complying and allowing him to stand. 

He tuned out the demon’s voice until Vepnihr began to laugh again, the shrillness of the noise making it difficult to ignore. He turned his attention back to Stanley, who now clasped the third Journal in his hands. Grunkle Stan stood by his side, panting slightly; he must have ducked through the broken window to get the book from the control room. 

“That spell won’t work with just one magic user, Stanley,” Vepnihr drawled, chuckling harder as the Author ignored his words and continued to flip through the book anyway. “And you can’t tell me that idiot brother of yours is experienced enough to help you.” Stan bristled, fists raised as if that could help him. 

Dipper knew instantly what spell Stanley was looking for. It was the only banishing spell in Journal #3 that he knew of, anyway, and it was one of the only banishing spells he’d ever come across that required two experienced magic users. 

Stanley looked back up at the demon, an expression of uncertainty flashing across his face. Dipper braced himself. “Maybe not, but _I_ am,” he called out. Instantly, the room chilled as half of the eyeballs on Vepnihr’s form moved so that they were staring at him instead. 

Stanley stared at him in surprise. Dipper was sure he was thinking, _What does a kid know about magic?_ They didn’t have time to discuss it. Dipper yelled out the first line of the incantation and it only took a second for Stanley to pick up and begin reading out of the book in time with him. 

_Thank god I know that Journal so well,_ he thought as the Latin flowed from his mouth like second nature. He had studied the incantation many times over the years, learning it by heart in case of emergency. He had spent enough time staring at the pages that he could picture the runes sketched in the corners. He hadn't expected to every actually need the spell, but for once, it seemed that something in the universe was looking out for him. 

As with everything in his life nowadays, it didn't take long for everything to break into chaos.

“No! _No!_ ” Vepnihr screamed as the magic began to work its way into him, encasing him in a blue light. He thrashed, his form going everywhere as tendrils of smoke tried to creep out. Luckily, the spell was strong enough to keep him in place. 

Even if he couldn’t move, he could cause chaos around them. The lights on the portal shattered one-by-one until the only light radiating from it came from within. Whatever machines were in the control room began to bleep and wail, the sounds much louder and higher pitched than they should have been. Broken glass and pieces of metal began to fly around the room. 

A metal beam came flying straight for him. Dipper was so focused on the demon in front of him to even notice. The only thing that saved him was Grunkle Stan barrelling into him to knock him out of its path. Dipper was only startled for a moment before he realized what had been about to happen and he continued to recite the incantation, albeit a bit breathlessly. 

“Nobody touches my nephew,” Grunkle Stan declared, looking a bit proud. Dipper smiled as he continued to speak and Stanley continued to read from the Journal from across the room.

Grunkle Stan continued to fight like that, keeping him out of harm's way. Things would come flying towards him and Stan would either move him out of the way or take the hit for him, moving much faster than Dipper would have expected from his old age. 

Dipper was still mad at him. He had been _lying_ to them for years. But there was something in his eyes- something about the way that he was looking at his brother, as if he couldn't believe how lucky he was to have him back- that made it difficult for Dipper to think too hard about it. 

When the physical attacks didn't work, Vepnihr worked on what seemed to be his speciality: forming nightmares.

Dipper had seen enough of the demon's creations to be used to it, but that didn't make it any easier to continue when his vision went dark and he began to see the demon's horrifying creations in his head. He felt like he'd been doused in ice water, breathing hitching as a sense of dread began to creep in. His words cut off, and across the room, he heard the Author stutter to a stop as well. After just a moment, when Stanley continued, Dipper recognized the trick. _It's not real_ , he told himself, willing the images of the creatures away. As soon as he convinced his mind of it, he was able to see again.

The feeling didn't leave his chest, though at this point Dipper wasn't sure how much of it was Vepnihr's doing and how much of it was his own anxiety. He started to worry about his sister, thinking of how much he'd failed her. He started to think of Bill and how useless he'd been to him.

The thoughts hit him in staccato beats, each leaving a stinging in his chest like knives.

 _It's not real. It's not real. Focus. Recite the spell._

_Maybe if you'd been better at magic before, then this wouldn't have happened to Shooting Star!_ The thought came in Bill's voice, but the boy couldn't ever imagine the demon saying it. 

He paused for just a moment, catching his breath.

No. 

He wouldn't give in. 

There was nothing he could have done to save Mabel. It happened too quickly; none of them had been expecting it. 

A small voice in the back of his head (a voice that sounded a bit _too_ much like Mabel's, dammit) was reminding him that maybe he should redirect that thought towards his feelings about the Incident. He filed that thought away for later.

He continued reciting the incantation.

The lab continued to shake. Dipper wondered if there was an earthquake caused by the radiation put off by the portal or if it was just part of Vepnihr’s rage. The more they read, the angrier the demon got and the more fight he put up. At this point, it was difficult to focus on anything other than the pounding in his head and the Latin spilling from his lips.

The portal pulsed, the galaxy inside still spinning around. _Mabel._

It was obvious when the spell was getting closer to working. Vepnihr began to scream louder in agony, cursing them in more languages than Dipper knew existed. Angry lightning seemed to flash, but it never made contact with the ground. 

He’d performed exorcisms before, enough to know how much they drained you. Still, he wasn’t expecting how much air and energy would be ripped from him as the spell came to a close and the magical binds around the demon began to draw closer. 

A bright light flashed before the room went dark.

“This isn’t the end, Dipper!” the disembodied voice snarled, deepening. Dipper tried not to panic at the fact that he couldn't see anything. “I’ll be back, and when I am, you’ll be wishing I killed you.”

The warning was the last thing he said before the magic closed in on him with a bright flash of light and he was gone. 

The light returned to the room, the portal swirling with stars.

Stanley was collapsing to the floor almost immediately, Stan rushing over to him. Dipper clutched at his stomach, ignoring the burning sensation. He looked around. Was Vepnihr really gone? Was it all really over?

No. It wasn’t over. 

He looked over towards the machine, heart pounding.

The portal pulsed with light, and Dipper was falling over his feet to hurry over up the stairs to its entrance as a figure began to emerge.

Mabel came stumbling out of the portal as if she had been pushed, falling forward a few steps before she was leaning over to grasp her knees. Dipper was there in a heartbeat, tugging her a safe distance away from the machine and wrapping his arms firmly around her before she could even catch her breath. 

Mabel. Mabel was safe. Bill saved her.

“Mabel, oh my god, Mabel, Mabel, Mabel,” he sobbed against her hair. It was slightly damp against his face. Her cheek was freezing. Her arms didn’t come up to wrap around him in return, but he chalked it up to her still being in shock. 

“We have to shut it down,” she whispered, voice sounding hoarse. Dipper pulled back but maintained his grip on her arms, staring at her. Surprisingly, he was shaking much harder than she was. 

“What?” He frowned. 

Mabel blinked and seemed to snap out of her daze, eyes focusing on Dipper. “The portal. We have to shut it down.” She tugged herself out of his grip, moving towards the shutdown button before Dipper could even comprehend the situation. 

Her hand was about to slam down on the button when Dipper lunged forward and grabbed her wrist, yanking her back. “Wait!” he cried. “What about Bill? Where’s Bill? Why- why isn’t he here?” He stared at the portal with wide eyes, his fears making themselves known the closer they got to being a reality. “Bill was with you, right?” 

“Dipper.” Mabel tugged her hand out of his grip, staring at him with serious eyes. “Bill told me to shut it down.” 

_No, no, oh god, no_.

“But- but he-” Dipper broke off with a choked noise, feeling like he’d just had the air knocked out of him.

“Dipper, it’s okay. Bill will be okay. He’ll just be forced back into the mindscape. He said that it’ll take too long for him to get his body out of there and that if the portal is open any longer, it’ll rip the universe apart. He’ll be fine.” Mabel sounded like she wasn’t sure of who she was trying to convince at this point. Her hand still hovered over the button.

Fine. Fine. Bill would be fine. He’d lose his human body, but he’d be fine.

Mabel wouldn’t do it if she didn’t believe it was the best choice for all of them. 

He nodded slowly despite feeling like his lungs were about to collapse in on themselves, taking a step back. Mabel eyed him carefully before slamming her fist down. 

The portal seemed to pulse brighter in intensity and blow out more wind before it swallowed all of the air in the room and went black. They all choked, desperate for oxygen, and it was a long few seconds before it seemed to return to the room. 

When they were all able to breathe again, Dipper fell to the ground and choked out a sob. 

Mabel was there in a heartbeat, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his neck. He heard quiet footsteps behind them, and Grunkle Stan’s voice murmuring, “Give them a minute,” as he seemingly led Stanley out of the room. The door swung open with a _creak_ before slamming shut. The noise didn’t jostle them.

Mabel’s fingers carded through his hair. It only made it worse. 

“Bill,” he sobbed. For once, he didn’t care how broken his voice sounded. 

“Shh,” Mabel soothed, tugging him closer. “I know. I know. It’s okay.”

This was ridiculous. He should be the one consoling _her_ , not the other way around. He wasn’t the one who had just been thrown into a portal. 

_Bill will be fine_ , he reminded himself. For some reason, the thought only made him cry harder. Whether it was out of desperation or relief, he didn’t know.

It took a long time for them both to calm down, their heaving breaths to turn into soft ones as a too-quiet silence fell over the room. Mabel broke the silence with a joking, “When will our lives just be normal?”

“Probably never,” Dipper muttered, pulling back from the embrace to sit back on his heels. 

“Normal is boring, though, right?”

Dipper rolled his eyes. “No. Normal would be gladly accepted right now.”

They laughed quietly in unison before falling back into the silence, both turning to stare at the now-still portal. It looked too dark, too peaceful, and Dipper hoped it would be off for a lot more than thirty-seven more years. 

\------

He expected the chaos to continue after the portal incident. Instead, a calm fell over Gravity Falls as the town collectively tried to recover from what had happened to it. 

Dipper didn’t ever really get to take part in any of the rebuilding efforts that Mabel had seemed so hyped up about before anything had really gone down. Both twins were hospitalized immediately. They were both hurt an equal amount, but in different ways.

Mabel’s time spent in the portal had dropped her internal body temperature to dangerously low levels, which Stanley observed that she had probably only survived because of the magic burning within her. But being tossed around through several dimensions over the course of just a few minutes took a huge toll on one’s body, enough so to put Mabel in a coma that thankfully only lasted a few days. 

Dipper was a different story. He had so much internal bleeding that the doctors were all shocked that he had survived, calling it a “miracle” and having to shoo away reporters who wanted the true story of what had happened to him. Luckily, the doctors of Gravity Falls knew well enough to not ask too many questions. 

His entire body was covered in cuts and bruises, most of them minor. The gash on his cheek would likely never heal completely, giving him a scar similar to the one running down Mabel’s face. 

The skin on his side and stomach was still blackened, looking like any burn victim, but somehow, the gold of Bill’s mark still shone through. When he was questioned about it, he said that it was just a tattoo, but when the doctors assured him that the burning should have worn away at the flesh, he turned the questions over to the best liar he knew: Grunkle Stan.

He didn’t know what Stan told them, but it got them off his case.

After Mabel woke up, it was only a few more days before they were allowed to leave the hospital and go home. Well, Dipper went home. Mabel had to head back to California for school, despite the concerns that she may not be healthy enough to travel yet. 

The story to those outside of town was that Gravity Falls had been stampeded through by a bunch of wild circus animals, so that was exactly how the twins explained their injuries to their parents. Their mom and dad were furious, of course, both demanding that Dipper come home to California as well. After a lot of arguing, they eventually had to accept the fact that Dipper was a legal adult who could and would make his own decisions. 

And his decision was to continue his schooling in Gravity Falls, as much as it could potentially risk his life. 

Oddly enough, Mabel began to offhandedly mention transferring to a college in Oregon in the fall. Her fashion school was boring and overhyped, she explained. When rumors began to get around town that Pacifica Northwest would also be continuing school near Gravity Falls next semester, nobody questioned Mabel any further. 

Dipper couldn’t really protest. After everything they’d been through, he figured it would be best for his sanity to be near his twin. 

After doing an extensive mental evaluation of him at the hospital, one of his doctors recommended he see a psychiatrist and another one told him that he was going to need to find a highly-trained specialist. He did that, meeting up with them once before firmly deciding to never go again. 

Stan insisted he go, thinking that it was the best thing for him, but Stanley sided with Dipper. He understood what the boy had been through. And after losing his twin for nearly forty years, Stan couldn’t really find any way to argue with him.

Still, the limited sessions along with several trips back to the hospital to have his progress examined were enough to get him put on a handful of medications. Most of them were for the pain, but there was a mood stabilizer and a sleeping pill thrown in to help him “deal with the trauma.” 

The pills were enough to keep him out of the mindscape and throw him into a deep sleep where it was impossible to escape his nightmares. 

They weren’t planted there by Vepnihr. No, they were organic, memories that would haunt him forever. He’d dream of losing his sister. He’d dream of falling into the portal himself. He’d dream of Vepnihr looming over him, raking his claws down his skin, whispering in Dipper’s ear that he belonged to him. 

Bill never showed up, but when Dipper couldn’t access the mindscape in his sleep, he couldn’t really expect anything more. Bill’s human vessel had obviously been wrecked in the portal. 

Dipper couldn’t help but wish for some sort of sign, though. 

He got it one day a few weeks after being discharged from the hospital when he got home and found the silver triangle pendant, chain somehow fully intact, sitting on his desk. There was no note. 

He wore it, though hesitatingly. After Stanley questioned it (and he had to lie; they’d opted to _not_ tell Stanley about the extension of his relationship with Bill for now), he worked harder to hide it. It stayed hidden beneath his shirt, the coolness of the metal quickly becoming a familiar weight. 

_For protection,_ he told himself.

He expected more after that. Maybe if he couldn’t access the mindscape in his sleep, Bill would just pull him into it during the day. He couldn’t believe he actually _wanted_ a demon to yank him out of his own realm, but it was better than playing the waiting game. 

Nothing happened. A month passed since the portal incident. The two month mark was rapidly approaching. 

Dipper grew more and more frustrated until he just stopped expecting anything. 

He worked to push all thoughts of Bill out of his mind. He threw himself further into schoolwork. When he was once again able to bear the thought of entering the woods, he started back with his research. Stanley was more than content to help him with it. 

He grew close with the man very quickly, despite the tenseness that came between he and his great uncle after learning about the years of lies. He wanted to stay angry at Grunkle Stan, but after he fought off a demon with the man… well, it was hard not to trust him.

Mabel also got along swimmingly with their reunited family member. Having both been in the portal, they shared a connection that Dipper and Stan couldn’t even begin to imagine. Neither of them were eager to speak openly about what they had seen, and quickly enough, Dipper and Stan stopped asking. 

Had the town been anything other than Gravity Falls, Stanley’s sudden reappearance would have sparked waves. As it was, people just welcomed him back with open arms and without questions. 

His presence helped to ground Dipper and keep his attention off of a certain blonde demon. 

His sister, unfortunately, did not offer the same help.

“So, have you heard from Bill yet?” Mabel asked one night over Skype, just as she did nearly every night. Dipper pressed down harder with his pencil until the lead broke. He didn’t take his gaze off of his Calculus homework, eyes burning from behind his glasses.

She asked it so confidently, so frequently, that Dipper had to believe that she was truly certain Bill would come back. 

“No, Mabel,” he seethed, tossing his pencil off to the side and grabbing another one without meeting her expectant stare on the screen, “I haven’t. 

“Well, maybe you should-” 

“He’s not coming back, Mabel!” Dipper interrupted, dropping the second pencil and pushing back in his desk chair so he could properly look at his computer. He didn’t look straight at his webcam, instead focusing his gaze on his keyboard. His hands shook slightly, and he took a deep breath, using one to brush his bangs out of his face. When he composed himself, he looked back up fully at his twin, who was staying oddly silent. “He’s not making any effort to come in contact with me, so he probably doesn’t care to.”

He didn’t know why he said the words. He barely even believed them himself. While it was true that Bill wasn’t approaching him, he still had a sinking feeling that the demon was watching. He was _always_ watching. 

“Maybe _you_ need to contact _him_ ,” Mabel offered gently. It wasn’t the first time she’d said it; this wasn’t the first time that they’d had this conversation, not by a longshot.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “No, it’s- no, Mabes.” The boy took a deep breath. His sister frowned at him from her side of the screen, her webcam focusing on bright pink fairylights behind her for a moment before refocusing on her face. “He doesn’t- I shouldn’t care about it. I don’t. I don’t care.” His lie was obvious. “He doesn’t care either.” There. That sounded better.

“Dipper Pines,” Mabel said sternly, her voice similar enough to their mother’s to make him cringe, “you stop that right now.” She crossed her arms, covering up the cat on the front of her pajama shirt. “Do you remember over Thanksgiving break, when I had that sleepover with Bill?” 

Dipper frowned, the words catching him off guard. That certainly hadn’t been where he had been expecting this conversation to go. He crossed his arms over his chest, mirror her movement. “Yeah?”

Mabel took a deep breath, making her microphone pick up on loud static when she let it out. She smiled sadly at him. “He cares, Dipper. He probably didn’t realize it at the time, and I’m sure he doesn’t realize it now. He wouldn’t stop talking about you. Sure, he referred to you like some sort of pet, or something, but I could just tell. That’s not the way you talk about something you look at as property. That’s the way you talk about someone you love.” She stared at him, letting her words sink in. When Dipper didn't say anything, still a bit in shock from the words, she continued softly, "He gave up his chance to get out of Gravity Falls, Dipper. That was what he was working for the entire time, and he gave it up for you. That's love, bro-bro."

Dipper bounced his leg up and down, staring at the ceiling as the words rang in his head. They couldn’t be true… could they? 

Bill was a demon. He couldn’t feel love. Sure, maybe his time spent with Dipper _did_ make him more “human,” but...

A few moments flashed in his head, from the way Bill looked at with burning eyes him to the way he would comb his fingers through Dipper’s hair. He remembered Bill pulling him possessively against his chest at Pacifica’s party. The way he’d tied the tourniquet on Dipper’s arm after the crocotta attack.

August seemed like it had happened years before. 

Mabel was watching him expectantly. He squirmed under her gaze. “What?” he grouched. 

She grinned. She could see right through him. “What are you going to do?” she asked in a sing-song voice, steepling her fingers and leaning her chin forward onto them.

He sighed. “You already know.”

\-----

Dipper finished carving the necessary runes into the ground, looking around and examining the circle for any flaws. When everything looked good, he lit the white candles with a fireplace match.

 _Now or never_. 

The candles flickered dangerously, and for a moment, Dipper worried that he’d done the sigils wrong. 

Then the sound of the birds chirping and the bugs buzzing gradually came to a stop as the color faded from the world and a triangle faded into existence in the air before him.

“Alright, what can I do ya for-” Bill broke off as he opened his eye and the mirth faded from his form, taking in Dipper. “Oh. Hey, Pine Tree.”

Dipper took a shaky breath, hooking his thumbs in the pockets of his jeans. He offered the demon a weak smile. Bill’s eye narrowed, as if he thought this might be some sort of trap. “Hey, Bill.” 

Bill watched him carefully, eyeing him up and down. “I see that you’re recovering nicely.” 

The words were too polite, too formal. Dipper hated it.

“Yeah.” He rubbed at the back of his neck. Despite most of his injuries being close to fully healed, they all seemed to ache at once at Bill’s words. “I thought you would have known that already. I’m sure you’ve been watching.” 

“You’re assuming that I’m still keeping tabs on you?” Bill scoffed. Dipper saw right through it; he nodded. The indignation faded from Bill’s eye as he blinked slowly at the boy. When Dipper grinned, the demon _hmmph_ ed and looked away. Dipper could picture it perfectly on his human form. 

“You’re right, not that it matters,” Bill muttered. 

Dipper bit back the snarky comeback forming on his tongue, instead settling to go with, “So, I’m sure you’re wondering why I summoned you-”

“Yeah, most people don’t go full-circle just because they were bored,” Bill sneered. 

_Same old Bill_ , Dipper thought. He had to force himself not to smile. 

His heart was pounding. After months of no interaction, he hadn’t realized how much he had missed the bickering that had become so routine between them. 

He opened his mouth to speak, but Bill cut him off with, “Y’know, kid, I’m kind of a busy guy, so unless you’re here to make a deal-”

“I am.”

“-then I’ve really gotta get- wait,” Bill blinked at him, “you are?”

The candles flickered. Dipper shifted nervously, grinning sheepishly. “Yeah, I,” he took a deep breath, “just really thought that- if you wanted- then we could work something out.”

Bill peered down at him. “I’m listening.”

“I- right.” Why was he so nervous? This was _Bill_. This was the demon he’d been putting up with since August. The demon who was content to just sit by and hum and drum his fingers on Dipper’s legs while the boy did his schoolwork. The demon who helped him with research and trained him in magic and combat. The demon who he’d _slept_ with.

The demon who he’d fallen for. 

That sobering reminder was enough to give him the strength to press on. “I was just thinking, if- if you wanted to have a human body again, y’know? For whatever reason. And you need… energy. I. Teenage boys have a lot to give, remember?” The joke sounded weak coming from him. He took a moment to steady his breathing, casting his eyes downwards to avoid the demon’s stare. “And in return, you can continue to help me with magic and research. If Vepnihr ever actually does come back, I’ll need to be prepared.”

He dared to glance up at Bill. The demon was staring at him, looking a bit shocked. When he noticed Dipper’s stare back on him, all emotion faded from his form. When Bill wanted to appear emotionless in his human form, it was difficult to read him; like this, it was impossible. “Stanley would have a field day,” the demon muttered. 

“He’d get over it.” _I hope_.

Bill laughed, the sound genuine and not mocking. It cut off as quickly as it started, though, and his eye narrowed. His voice grew more serious as he asked, “Why are you doing this, Pine Tree?” He didn’t wait for a response. “If this is because you think you owe me something for saving Shooting Star, then-”

“No!” Dipper interrupted, one hand splayed in front of him. He quickly drew it back in, beginning to wring his hands nervously. “No, I mean…” He blinked at the demon. Bill blinked back. With cheeks burning, the teen rushed out, “It’s just weird not having you around, y’know? I’m- I’m totally grateful for you getting Mabel back, but that’s not what this is about. The Shack is too quiet without you there. And I’m, um. I’m still having nightmares. And I know that if you’re around, I’ll actually be able to get some peaceful sleep. Not that I’m using you for that, or anything! I genuinely enjoy your company. I just-”

Bill cut him off with the sound of his laughter. The noise initially startled Dipper, but after the sound continued to echo off the trees for far longer than necessary, he shoved his hands back into his pockets and glared at his feet. 

“Pine Tree,” Bill laughed, his voice teasing, “are you saying that you _like_ me?”

“You’re pretty alright, I guess,” Dipper mumbled in response, not taking his eyes off the ground.

“Yeah?” Bill floated closer to him, the light radiating off of him enough to make Dipper tear his eyes off of the ground and glance up. The demon hovered close enough that he could reach out and rest a small hand on Dipper’s cheek, only staying for a moment before brushing back through his hair. Though the feeling was much different from that of the gloved hands of Bill’s human form, it somehow wasn’t unfamiliar. “You’re pretty alright, too,” Bill said gleefully, and Dipper had to laugh at how genuine it sounded- 

“...for a meatsack.” 

Never mind. 

Dipper rolled his eyes, shoving the triangle back and ignoring the literal shock that it sent up his body when his hand made contact with Bill’s surface. The demon cackled, surface flashing a bit brighter. 

“Alright, Pine Tree,” Bill drawled once he stopped laughing, voice growing more serious but still with the familiar undertone that Dipper had missed, “do we have a deal?”

He stuck his hand out, but Dipper beat him to it, his own hand shooting up and igniting in blue flames. Bill nearly jolted back, looking a bit startled, but after eyeing up Dipper’s magic-filled hand for a moment, a proud, slightly predatory look flashed in his eye. If he was in his human form, Dipper was sure he’d be smirking. He took Dipper’s hand.

Dipper took a deep breath, eyeing up his demon in front of him and the grayscale world surrounding them. He had finally gotten out of all of his deals, and he was about to agree to another one. 

Somehow, he couldn’t convince himself that this was anything but the right decision to make. 

“Yeah, we do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, while #Grunkle4Grandpa is nearly confirmed, there's still a chance of Alex Hirsch pulling a _Hirsch_ on us and making it not true. So, I'm still going to refer to the author as Stanley and Grunkle Stan as Stanford. Just to avoid confusion. 
> 
> Anyways, thank you so much to EVERYBODY for reading through the whole thing. It's been a wild ride. Thanks to Vel for putting up with my constant complaints and for inspiring me to continue writing. Thanks to everybody who has bookmarked and left kudos, and especially to those of you who have commented (even more so if you've been commenting since the beginning). 
> 
> As for whether or not there will be a sequel, that's still up in the air. Right now, I have several ongoing projects. I'm writing a Bill-Reverse!Bill-universe-swap chaptered fic (which will be Bill/Dipper as well), and the first chapter of that will likely be up within the next few weeks. If that's something you're interested in, keep an eye out for it! 
> 
> Thank you all so much.


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